The Betrayal
by fireworkfiasco
Summary: When a mission already doomed ends in disaster, Sydney has to find a way to survive. Because now, the only thing keeping her from happily ever after is one angry blonde. [Sydney & Vaughn]
1. Reflections

Chapter One – Reflections  
  
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They were running. 'Faster Syd! You've got to run faster!' She could hear the urgency in the voice. She knew that voice... It had awoken her from her dreams so many nights, so very long ago. She turned towards it, and found herself staring into Danny's helpless eyes. She slowed, watching horrified, as he fell to the ground. She fell to the ground at his side, hands sliding uselessly over the blood that coated his shirt. 'Danny? How...?' She couldn't help but ask, not knowing where he had come from; when it wasn't his voice she had heard... She looked up – towards the place she had been running from. 'You think you can make it?' A cruel voice tainted with the slightest British accent called out. She knew that voice too – knew it and hated it. A painful gasp drew her attention back to the man at her feet – and she found Danny gone. 'Vaughn? No! No, you can't! Vaughn, please, listen...' His startlingly bright eyes were begging with her – Just one last kiss... She felt herself leaning in – fighting it with every inch she surrendered... Suddenly there was a gunshot –  
  
Sydney snapped upright – and found herself tangled in her sheets, at home in her own bed. She shook her head as the images in her exhausted mind settled themselves. Before she knew what she was doing, she had thrown the sheets aside and jumped to her feet, pacing back and forth in the empty apartment. "Oh – this can't be good Sydney Bristow! You, dreaming of a man that right now is in bed next to his wife – " That thought made her shiver violently.  
  
She jumped as the phone rang, amplified in the small space. Snatching it off the hook, she answered with a crisp "Hello?" before realizing that she sounded out of breath and frightened.  
  
"Sydney?" She knew that voice. Once again, it rung with terror and urgency.  
  
"Vaughn? What is it? Are you okay? Is something wrong? Is Lauren okay?" She nearly choked as she forced Lauren's name out. There was something vile about it – like cursing in a holy place of worship. Saying it this late at night while on the phone with the love of her life just didn't seem right.  
  
"I'm – She's – We're fine...I'm calling because...I – I was worried about you..."  
  
"Worried about me? Why?" Sydney asked, grabbing the base of the phone and pacing around her bedroom, twisting the cord around her feet.  
  
"There was...I dreamt that you were – " Vaughn trailed off hopelessly. Sydney knew that his handsome face was probably scarlet right now – but imagining that face right now wasn't doing any good...  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sark, he had you, and then...And you fell...And there was nothing I could do..."  
  
"It was probably nothing." Sydney forced herself to say silently. Her consolations seemed false; she knew that something was really bothering him. But the thought of talking with him anymore then necessary, especially considering the events of the last few days... She couldn't keep up this charade much longer. She would have to leave Los Angeles. It was the only way to remain sane.  
  
"Yes," was his still reply.  
  
"Oh." It was all that she could say.  
  
"I just wanted to be sure...I'd better go. Lauren's a light sleeper, and I don't want to disturb her. I lo- I mean, see you tomorrow. Good night."  
  
Sydney opened her mouth to answer, but the harsh click of the line going dead caused her let out a shaky sigh instead. She knew what he had been about to say... And with Lauren right there, sleeping in the same room? Then why had he bothered to call? So he had almost said 'I love you.' That didn't mean anything. It could have been habit; she had heard him say it reflexively to Lauren so many times... Or might it have been truth?  
  
Sydney closed her eyes and shook her head. There wasn't anything she could do. At least, not yet.  
  
The next morning...  
  
Sydney strode into CIA headquarters somewhat confidently. She knew she belonged, even when her personal life threatened to take hostages. She waved at Weiss as he sauntered by, clutching a box of donuts to his chest with delight. She saw Dixon next, and gave him a smile. He grinned back, despite the gathering of somber men around his computer.  
  
She turned another corner, not surprised to find Lauren Reed standing by Sydney's desk almost impatiently, tapping one heel-clad foot annoyingly. There was something off about her – she seemed...pleased, content. Usually she looked like someone had just asked her to clean every single bathroom in Los Angeles.  
  
"There you are," she said to Sydney as she spotted her. "I need to talk to you today after the briefing. And yes, it is important. Yes, it has to do with Michael. Yes, I do know about last night. And Korea." Her accent was unusually mocking today, Sydney noted.  
  
She spun around and stalked off, leaving Sydney staring at her messy desk. "That wench! She went through my things! What did she think she'd find? Love letters? Oh yes, as though Vaughn writes them to me when she's in the shower. Yeah, that'd be the day." Sydney thought to herself as she straightened the desk.  
  
Suddenly what Lauren said sunk in, and Sydney dropped the stack of papers she was holding, watching hopelessly as they rained down around her desk. "'And Korea?' How does she know about Korea? No one – "  
  
A horrible thought crossed her mind and she made a beeline for where she had seen Dixon last. He wasn't there however, and she was told that he was preparing for the briefing. She ran for the conference room, not surprised to see a smug Lauren grinning next to the ever-foxy Vaughn, who was frowning at the papers in font of him. Dixon was no where to be found, so Sydney backed out of the room, running back to her desk.  
  
Her papers were still littering the floor around her desk, but Sydney paid them no heed as she snatched her phone up and punched the numbers for her father's cell phone. It rang once...twice...thrice...then his voicemail kicked in, and Sydney edgily listened to the smooth voice as it asked her to leave a detailed message.  
  
"Dad, it's me...I need to talk to you now. There's something wrong. Call me as soon as you can." She flung the phone back into its cradle, silently offering up a prayer that Jack Bristow would remember to check his voicemail before she was sent on whatever mission was about to be handed to her.  
  
She turned and headed back into the conference room, hastily running a hand over her mussed hair. "It's not like I have anyone to look nice for..." She thought angrily as she flung open the door, fixing her face in a mask that would reveal nothing.  
  
Vaughn glanced up, his dark eyes taking her in. Sydney refused to meet them, knowing she'd start to ball if she did. She did however smile at Dixon, who looked up as she came in.  
  
"Very good. I guess that means that we can begin."  
  
"Wait – Where's my father? Isn't he coming? Shouldn't we wait for him?" Sydney asked desperately, knowing that she'd need at least one ally today.  
  
"He's on mission right now. It was a rush to get him on his way, and he said that he's very sorry that he couldn't contact you and say good-bye. He should be back in two days."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Now, this mission is key in bringing about the fall of the Covenant. We have obtained – actually, more like bartered for – information on the location of the Covenant headquarters."  
  
"Which one?" Sydney heard Lauren's cold voice cut in.  
  
"I'm not allowed to divulge that information to anyone who is not directly involved with this mission because of the mole that we have yet to locate."  
  
"Who is 'directly involved' then?" Lauren asked again, anger tinting her words.  
  
"Bristow and Vaughn. So, if you would kindly excuse yourself, Mrs. Reed..."  
  
Sydney ducked her head to hide the smile that she could feel flooding her face. She listened as Lauren's heels tapped roughly on the floor, then paused as she opened the door, and faded away until the sound proof door silently closed again.  
  
"We may be able to bring in the leader of the North American branch of the Covenant."  
  
"We already have Sark, so who else is there?" Vaughn asked.  
  
"He had a partner – someone who is not named in any Covenant document up to this point. He – or she – would temporarily hinder the Covenant's movements and maybe divulge information on other locations and cells. It is critically important that this mission go according to plan. No discussing this with any other agents, other than Marshall; who will be running op-tech. He has been cleared, and is completely loyal to the CIA; I am happy to report.  
  
"You both will go to Quebec, where the cell leader is supposed to rendezvous with his handler. You will intercept both of them and bring them in. Unfortunately, this is deep cover, as we don't know much about this hotel or the details of the meeting. You will pose as millionaire newlyweds; the McAllisters. Your cover is detailed in the reports, and make sure you visit Marshall. He has some new gadgets for this mission."  
  
Sydney stood, her blood running hot and cold at the same time. Newlyweds? Was Dixon mad? Sydney and Vaughn; the famous ex-couple; newlyweds? Two years ago she would have dreamed about this cover, and now it seemed so...forced.  
  
Vaughn didn't look much happier. His face was set as he marched out of the conference room, leaving Sydney with her thoughts.  
  
This was going to be ugly.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Okay, next chapter will be up in a maximum of a week. And it will be from Lauren's, then Vaughn's, POV. Should make it interesting. Lots of Love, AND Review, if you can. Thanks. 


	2. Rendezvous

Chapter 3 - Rendezvous  
  
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She was in pain. Intense, burning fire was shooting down her back, causing her to writhe as it coursed its way downward. She could feel the metal shackles resisting her efforts to curl into a ball. She heard movement to her left, a low mechanical chuckling that sounded pleased at her pain, but she refused to open her eyes. She didn't want to know what they were doing to her...what type of pain was coming next. A sting along her collarbone told her instinctively that a needle was being inserted. She tried not to shudder at the thought of what an enemy's needle might inject...the havoc that could ensue...the pain that was yet to come. But she heard a familiar voice that made her jerk her eyes open. 'Are you there? Look at me, look at me! I know that you can hear me. Oh, if only you had run faster!' She looked over at Vaughn, who was being held by two masked guards, their only identification the outdated rifles they had trained on Vaughn's shackled form. 'What?' She asked, her voice cracking. 'You need to stay with me... Don't give up, not yet! Don't let them win, they can't...' The sudden crunching of bone made her heave. Her eyes told her that one of the guards had brought the butt of his rifle down on Vaughn's shoulder. Her nose could smell the metallic stench of blood.. Then she heard the cocking of a pistol – another guard, another gun – and then the sickening drop of the hammer...  
  
Sydney awoke with a violent start. She threw herself out of bed and flew to the bathroom, dropping to her knees as the first wave of nausea overcame her. She clung to the cool porcelain, trying hard not to heave again. Try as she might though, the sobs couldn't be contained. She was crying for herself, for Vaughn, for the years that they wouldn't be able to have. For all the kisses and hand-holding they'd miss. For all the looks that could be exchanged, but never explained.  
  
She stayed until the warm rays of dawn began to pierce the mist that floated around her thoughts. "Let's get control, Bristow, let's not give up; not yet," she said as she picked herself up off the floor. A cool shower helped her gather herself, and soon she was on her way to work – and her new mission.  
  
She found herself in Marshall's op-tech room, not knowing exactly how she had arrived. She didn't remember driving...nor parking, or going through the palm scan... Had she even seen Dixon?  
  
Marshall smiled at her as she opened the door. "Hey Syd. You look beat... Really tired? Cause I've got some coffee, if you want some. Oh, and Vaughn's already been through this – he came in really early, then had to take off, so we can go through this really quick.  
  
First, your plane leaves at nine this morning. Vaughn will be riding with you – first class; and clothes will be provided. So now, onto the gadgets."  
  
"What do you have for me?" She heard herself asking.  
  
He nodded rather belatedly. "It's standard listening and recording stuff... Nothing too tricky yet... See, the thing is, the rooms are all bugged. Almost every single one. So our problem is that we can't block their electronic plants because that would make you suspicious. So you and Agent Vaughn are ging to have to be real swell actors. Although, that shouldn't be so hard with your history –"  
  
"Marshall; please."  
  
"Okay, right. So, I really can't do anything. Until I find out what type of security system the hotel has and the systems surrounding this hush-hush meeting. Then I get to test my powers.  
  
"You're trying to gather information on this meeting and then we'll probably do the rest. You know; I won't, but the CIA will send in a team to intercept and all that fun stuff. Just be careful. We don't know who the mole is and if they get tipped off; you may be walking into a trap. Please; be careful.  
  
She smiled, and after collecting the folder containing the rest of her mission debrief, exited with a wave.  
  
Two hours later...  
  
Sydney stood at the kiosk in the midst of a throng of busy people, pretending to compare two pairs of sunglasses. She was painfully aware of the lack of fabric covering her legs as she tried to rearrange the short skirt that she had found.  
  
Her instructions had led her to a locker at the rear of the airport, where she had discovered a bag of cloths and cosmetics. The traveling jacket and blouse were rather conservative, but they clung with all their might to curves Sydney had always covered up. The skirt was really the worst part of the outfit, as it barely reached mid-thigh. Sydney, in trying to keep up with her new ensemble, had donned a reddish wig, curls raining down upon her shoulders, and had highlighted her cheekbones with an extra thick coat of blush. Heavy eyeliner and eye shadow followed, and completing the ensemble was a heavy pout on scarlet lips, courtesy of Revlon.  
  
Glancing into the mirror above the display, Sydney tried to adjust to the face sulking back at her. So used to a natural look; the vibrant hair color and bright lipstick made her look different. "I am Katherine McAllister. Millionaire, trophy wife. Snot."  
  
She was waiting for Vaughn, and he was late.  
  
Suddenly she was aware of eyes on her – not the curious eyes of people passing by, or the lustful looks of college boys on their way home – but the eyes of a familiar man, one who haunted her dreams.  
  
She set the sunglasses down and turned slowly, not surprised to find Vaughn standing at the check-in counter of the flight to Quebec that they were going to be on. Together.  
  
No matter how many times she looked at Vaughn – even in the grungiest cloths available – he could still make her breath hitch in her throat. Now he made her forget to breathe.  
  
He was wearing a deep green shirt – it looked like silk; Sydney couldn't wait to find out – and the top few buttons were undone, revealing a tanned section of chest that Sydney remembered all too well. His hair looked freshly trimmed, but it looked as though the wind had tangled its fingers in it. He had on a pair of thin glasses with silver frames – and his green eyes were focused on her. Her. Sydney Bristow.  
  
"Wait, no..." She told herself quickly, "I'm Katherine McAllister...And that is Brendon T. McAllister... And we're newlyweds... And this is going to get so very interesting so very soon. Very soon."  
  
She plastered a smile on over her sudden loss of all rational thought and sauntered toward him, twisting a stray piece of hair around her finger provocatively. And he was still watching her – making no attempt to hide his admiration.  
  
"Hello, you," she purred softly, gauging his reaction.  
  
She heard his breath hitch. "Darling, I've missed you."  
  
She laughed to herself. He was really enjoying himself. She took his arm as the lady behind the counter checked the tickets and handed them back, smiling as she wished them a safe trip and a happy honeymoon.  
  
They were seated on the plane, and Sydney relaxed a little. Vaughn ordered them each a white wine, and she slipped a book out of her designer carry on.  
  
"This isn't that hard. Just flirt constantly with the man sitting next to you and let the attraction between us become so palatable that you could cut it with a knife...Hmm, this sounds rather familiar...Oh yes, it happens every god-forsaken day back at headquarters."  
  
Soon the drinks arrived and Sydney sipped on hers, glad for the mellow taste. Vaughn soon leaned over, and on the pretense of giving her a kiss, whispered in her ear, "From now on, we are married. Including in our room at the hotel... It'll be bugged because the Covenant owns it... We must be careful...we don't know who is watching..."  
  
She could only nod, slightly irritated that Vaughn seemed to think her dumb. "Let's begin the charade..."  
  
Once they landed in Quebec, Vaughn led her to a limousine, his arm wrapped about her waist protectively. They sat in feigned ignorance, Vaughn playing with the slit in Sydney's skirt, she toying with his hair.  
  
Once they arrived at the grand hotel, they were shown to a honeymoon suite – which wasn't as gaudy as Sydney had first predicted. It was done in white and yellow, the only pink and red was the vase of roses that was sitting on the window seat that oversaw a glorious view of the St. Lawrence River.  
  
The bellhop grinned slightly as Vaughn pushed him out the door while pressing a bill into his hand. "I bet he sees that a lot," Sydney thought sarcastically as she set her purse down on the table inside the door.  
  
Vaughn turned, loosening his tie with an exhausted expression carved in his stance. Sydney ignored him, knowing full well that speaking to him was either going to result in an argument or a blown cover. Or both.  
  
So, instead, she sauntered to the bathroom, grabbing her suitcase on the way. The least she could do was dress comfortably.  
  
She emerged in a comfortable sundress, light material ruffling around her legs as she opened the bay doors. The breeze rippled the curtains in the room, tugging playfully at the curls still spilling down her back. The feeling was new; and she shivered deliciously.  
  
Vaughn was studiously ignoring her; typing dutifully at the computer that held stock quotes and an emergency contact link with the CIA that was only accessible if you had the floppy disk, CD-rom, and password.  
  
She decided she had enough when room service showed up; handing a chilled bottle of champagne and a platter of chesses to Vaughn; shooting them both odd looks as they avoided one another's eyes from their perches across the room.  
  
After setting the bottle on the table just inside the door, Sydney spun on Vaughn, trying hard to ignore the lump of lust and fear that had settled into her belly. She knew that acting wasn't gong to be a problem; why, damn it, she wanted him bad and wasn't about to let this opportunity pass her by – but she was frightened at how he might react.  
  
It was too late to back out of the crash-course they had thrown themselves into – Sydney knew this well – so she picked her way across the floor and purposely draped herself across the keyboard of Vaughn's laptop, and in the process, his lap. He didn't seem to mind.  
  
And if she wasn't mistaken; there was no self-consciousness in the look that he gave her. No guilt, either. Just pure, unadulterated lust that Sydney was all to glad to see.  
  
He leaned towards her, his mouth just a finger's width apart. "Hello there, honey..." The words were barely a whisper, his voice cracking with a passion Sydney was happy to here.  
  
"Hello yourself."  
  
Then he hesitantly pressed his mouth to hers, as though not quite sure how she'd react.  
  
Before Sydney could stop herself, she had raised his chin and kissed him back.  
  
He didn't resist. Instead, his hands tangled in her hair he pulled her off the desk and onto his lap, closing the last few inches between them and melding their bodies into one.  
  
Oh yes, this was going to be very interesting...  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - 


	3. Reflexes

Chapter 4 - Reflexes  
  
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Random thoughts concerning a lot of flame and pain flashed through his mind as he tore his lips from Sydney's and turned to the door, where an insistent pounding was becoming rather annoying.  
  
He flung it open, not surprised to see another boy dressed in the familiar uniform of the hotel staff.  
  
"What?" He asked sharply, not caring how surprised the bellhop was.  
  
"Umm...I'm looking for Mrs. McAllister. She had a reservation in the spa for three thirty – "  
  
"And it is only two o'clock now," he growled, still rather angry about the interruption.  
  
"I was told to – to come and remind her... Sorry to disturb you - !" He cut him off by slamming the door, successfully ending that conversation.  
  
"Now, now..." Sydney said, raising an eyebrow in query. "You really should learn how to control your temper Brendon... It isn't cultured to slam the door that way."  
  
He could see her dimples fighting not to show. Brendon McAllister; violent temper, cultured swain... Who had come up with this alias? At least it meant he could kiss those full lips that were pouting all the way across the room without any...comeuppance for his crimes.  
  
Drawing her into his arms, he muttered, "Darling, he should know better! This is, after all, the most expensive honeymoon suite in all of Quebec, and you are the most beautiful bride in all of North America... What did he think I was going to be doing up here?"  
  
"Maybe checking stock quotes."  
  
Vaughn shook his head, making a face, still looking down into Sydney's eyes. They only thing he could read was urgency; the need to talk to him without playing any games. "No. I already did that..."  
  
She made the face back, and Vaughn couldn't help but marvel at this woman.  
  
His questions were left unanswered when Sydney suddenly pulled out of his arms and crossed the room to her suitcase. "Ah... Where are you going?"  
  
"I need to sun, darling... Then I have my appointment, and I've already made a reservation for Les Trois Rois for dinner, so be sure you are ready by eight. I'll be back up around seven thirty." She left, and Vaughn let out a breath that he hadn't been aware that he had been holding.  
  
He checked in with the CIA under the false stock website, then pulled out his new tux. At almost exactly seven forty five, the door swung open, and Sydney swept in, followed by a bellhop who was carrying five or six shopping bags. The sight of her returning to him – to his waiting arms – woke a series of emotions in him that he fought to control. He found it easier to ignore what he felt for Sydney if he ignored his thoughts all together.  
  
"You went shopping, darling?"  
  
A nod answered his question.  
  
The bellhop set the bags down and left, shutting the door behind him. Sydney came over and perched on Vaughn's knee, smiling indulgently.  
  
"I missed you..." She leaned in and kissed him, breathing four words into his ear that made him grin, then frown. "I'm going to get changed now...Be ready when I come out...Or we'll be late, and I don't want to miss those reservations."  
  
She gathered a few things and slipping into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her – and successfully causing Vaughn a lot of lustful feelings that made him long for a cold pool to throw himself into...  
  
He walked to the door and opened it, finding Sydney perched on the edge of the tub.  
  
"'No bugs in bathroom?' How did you find that out? Please don't tell me if it involved any bellhops."  
  
She shook her head. "No, I just 'went shopping' and got lost. Really though, Breaking into the surveillance room in this hotel was a piece of cake – it wasn't even locked. And the only guard that was supposed to be in there was in the spa, all over the lady behind the desk. For something that the Covenant runs, it's rather sad."  
  
"Yes, but it is the North American branch that we're talking about. Sark and some unidentified man couldn't being doing that well after only being in charge for roughly two weeks."  
  
"And we can't use bug killers in any of the other rooms because they'll put you on a special list... But they figured that the bathroom wasn't important enough or whatever..."  
  
"What else?"  
  
"Nothing, really. The guard cam back, and I started to cry cause I was lost and I told him not to tell my husband because he'd get mad... Thought I handled it pretty well."  
  
Vaughn mentally smacked himself for not poking around.  
  
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to change."  
  
Vaughn nodded and left silently.  
  
When the door opened ten minutes later, He was ready except for his tie, but couldn't help but look up as Sydney sauntered towards him. Vaughn, who had seen many of Sydney's disguises – including a particularly sultry one that involved a lot of red leather – had never seen anything quite as distracting as this...  
  
Los Angeles...  
  
Lauren angrily slammed the door of her handler's cab as she stood ankle deep in a large mud puddle that was successfully ruining her shoes. "Bloody Americans... They know nothing about proper anything..."  
  
After being told that even the Covenant didn't know what branch was under siege by the CIA, it looked like she was still going to have to go to Quebec for that briefing. "If Sark ever gets his bloody self out of jail, I'll castrate him! I have other work to do. Not be heading to a stupid briefing that I already know is happening mainly because Sark was stupid enough to get caught..."  
  
She angrily hailed another cap to return her back to her house so that she could pack, chewing over the latest that her handler had told her.  
  
Quebec...  
  
Sydney checked herself in the mirror one last time before slipping open the door and turning to face Vaughn. If the reaction that registered momentarily across his face had anything to do with it, Vaughn was certainly fighting just as hard as she was to keep their emotions from committing a long and depressing plunge to certain death.  
  
"The dress is beautiful," Sydney thought as she smoothed the thick fabric, "but not that beautiful."  
  
It was a gorgeous royal purple color, with a halter-top and floor length skirt. The slit up the side though, flashed more leg then Sydney thought necessary. She had left the wig in place, not bothering to fuss with it as the curls seemed to maintain themselves fine.  
  
Sydney smiled to herself as she surveyed Vaughn – Brendon – and saw that his tie hadn't even been attempted. She fixed it for him – an old habit – and slipped a faux fur stole over her shoulders, glad that it covered more of her then the dress did.  
  
Vaughn smiled down at her with a wink, then grabbed his overcoat and turned to the door – which suddenly flung itself open.  
  
A scowling blonde stepped into the room, producing a gun from their coat.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - 


	4. Revealing

Chapter 5 - Revealing  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"You!"  
  
"But how did you – "  
  
"You couldn't – "  
  
"Yes I could. And I did." Their assailant's accent was thick with anger, and Sydney wasn't surprised to hear mockery reflected back at them.  
  
"But – but..." Vaughn was staring, confused, down the barrel of a gun that successfully thwarted any of Sydney's plans of escape. She wouldn't do anything that would even put Vaughn thisclose to danger.  
  
"Do shut up! I find your stupidity annoying. Do you really think I would sit by and watch this happen to the Covenant? I didn't think so. Now, Miss Bristow, or should I say Mrs. McAllister, please handcuff yourself to your partner. Now." The gunned attacker tossed a pair of cuffs to her and she caught them silently, clicking them on her wrist, and then on to Vaughn's hand.  
  
He still looked as though he had seen a ghost. Sydney could compare. This wasn't happening... This couldn't be happening! How had it? It was obvious what had betrayed them – this assailant knew them intimately; a wig wasn't going to change that. But still; how in the word? It wasn't possible...  
  
Unless it was...  
  
"Now, please, when I take you downstairs, behave. We have other guests that do not want to be disturbed... Please, right this way." The gun beckoned towards the open door, which Sydney and Vaughn slowly stepped through and into the hallway.  
  
A sudden pressure on her palm made her glance down at their chained wrists. Vaughn's large hand, calloused from training to be field-rated again, had interlocked his fingers with hers. She squeezed his hand back, and looked up to find his worried eyes giving the old familiar look of love and courage. She followed Vaughn down the hallway, ever aware of the pistol that was prodding her back every other step.  
  
When Vaughn stumbled over a fold in the rug, Sydney heard the deadening sound of a gun cocking. She froze until she heard it released by hand, the dull scraping comforting compared to the ricocheting that would have signaled a shot.  
  
They trudged to the door next to the elevator, going down numerous flights of stairs. Sydney kept her eyes pealed for any chance of escaping – of not having to be taken any deeper into Covenant territory. Their friend with the gun, however, had a different idea, and kept Sydney on her toes. Around the fourth floor down, the windows disappeared, and they were joined by other armed guards, thereby cutting their hope of escape to nearly nothing.  
  
Finally, their captor stepped in front of them and opened a door, beckoning them into a dark hallway that resembled the dark back alleys of Los Angeles. The smell made Sydney sick, and she tightened her hold on Vaughn's warm hand. A few more doors down and the gun waved at an empty cell.  
  
"Now, this will be your new room. I hope you don't mind if we take the liberty of helping ourselves to your luggage. It is, after all, not needed down here."  
  
The gun waved again, and Sydney found herself face to face with half a dozen guards. They separated Vaughn and her and then cuffed Sydney's hands together. Vaughn was receiving similar treatment across the cell.  
  
Sydney fought the urge to slam a well-placed fist into certain body parts which would cause intense pain and pleasure – though the pleasure was mainly for Sydney's benefit.  
  
"Sleep well."  
  
The door slammed shut, and they were alone.  
  
Two doors down the hallway...  
  
"I told you they weren't stupid. Weren't smart enough to get themselves out of this mess, but we all make mistakes."  
  
"Do we now?" The second voice, crackling over the speakerphone sitting on the desk, was tainted with anger.  
  
"Some more than others, yes."  
  
"Oh? Do explain. I'm dying to hear all about it."  
  
"Maybe I'll explain it to you when we've got more time. Right now isn't good – I've got guests – and I have a few questions for them."  
  
"Make sure you make them...comfortable. And do you think it wise to keep them in the same room?"  
  
"Once I've finished...err, introducing them to their new surroundings, the room won't be a problem."  
  
"And this reassures me how?"  
  
"It will; trust me, it will."  
  
Back in the cell...  
  
"Syd – are you okay?" Vaughn blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes.  
  
"V – Vaughn?" He could hear pain in her voice.  
  
"Come here...Oh Syd, this shouldn't have happened! What did we do wrong?"  
  
He found her, crouching on the floor in the corner. She threw herself into his arms, and he was surprised to find her crying.  
  
"Oh Vaughn – I think I know...something...I don't know what to do! I – I..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I can't! Oh, Vaughn! If I could, without hurting you – I would... It's about – "  
  
The door banged opened, cutting Sydney's final words off. They both spun widely to the door – not surprised to see their armed adversary standing smugly in the doorway.  
  
"I thought I could ask you a few...questions, if you don't mind."  
  
The guards reappeared in the doorway and dragged Sydney from Vaughn's embrace, placing her in front of the mechanically smiling gunman.  
  
"I already know who you work for, and who you are, but what I don't know is how much you know about this...operation that you're on. Please share."  
  
Sydney didn't answer, just shook her head. Vaughn heard the blow before it registered. He surged forward, stopped by two burly guards that slammed him back against the wall.  
  
"No! Don't! Sydney, please..."  
  
"Listen to him. He has more sense than you do." A kick sent Vaughn surging forward again, trying to shield Sydney somehow. She was curled into a ball on the floor, gasping for breath, the purple velvet dress pooled around her on the wet floor.  
  
And Sark only laughed.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - 


	5. Revelations

Chapter 6 - Revelations  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
She couldn't breathe. The pain was blinding – all she could see was the filthy floor, pressing against her cheek. Spots of something – she didn't even want to guess – were dried on the floor, and she mentally focused on one until her vision stopped wavering. She sucked in a small gasp of air, silently thanking God above that the kick hadn't been any higher.  
  
The expensively leather clad feet in front of her stepped forward, and Sydney numbly registered Sark kneeling in front of her, his pleated pants covered in whatever was all over the floor. The irony was the only thing that registered – aside from that all consuming pain.  
  
"Now Sydney, I know that you don't want to tell me anything... I completely understand. You, however, can do nothing about what Mr. Vaughn will tell us. All he needs is the right...persuasion." As he spoke, he brushed her hair away from her face. She could hear struggling across the room and could envision Vaughn's infuriated face, fighting to help her.  
  
Sydney choked down a gag at Sark's touch, trying not to retch all over and add to the decoration on the floor.  
  
She found herself dragged to her feet, fighting to stand without the assistance of the guards. She glanced over at Vaughn who was being restrained by two additional guards. She mentally added them in her head, trying to calculate her chances of escape...  
  
After Sark's first blow, she wasn't sure she could count that high anymore.  
  
He had caught her across the jaw, snapping her head back and causing every nerve in her body to burn. Her legs had refused to hold her and she had fallen, unable to stop her body from hitting the floor with a harsh thud. She could feel the bruises blossoming along her shoulder and cheek.  
  
She snapped back to the present and out of the jumbles in her head as Vaughn's voice, strained with – was it anger? – yelled across the room.  
  
"Sark, you bloody British bas- "  
  
A guard's rifle butt silenced him – and Sydney cried out suddenly, still gasping.  
  
"Don't... Please, don't hurt him... He didn't mean it..."  
  
Sark turned back to her, evil glinting in his eyes. "I've found your exposed nerve, Sydney Bristow... All I had to do was put the right pressure on it. Shall we deaden it for you?"  
  
The threat was thinly veiled behind his accent and he waved carelessly at one of the guards, who shoved Vaughn to the floor.  
  
"Don't..." She croaked, her voice dragged from a chamber deep inside, somewhere that she had locked away the moment Vaughn had looked at her with those beautiful eyes of his and told her that he was glad he had moved on. He was glad that he had forgotten her. He was glad the she wasn't there anymore. He was glad...  
  
She repeated this to herself as she looked up at Sark, still staring down at her with an unreadable expression in his cold blue eyes.  
  
"What? Speak up Miss Bristow. I can't hear you." His words were mockingly polite.  
  
"I said..." She thought wildly. "Vaughn may not want me anymore, but I...I still love him... Oh, I've always loved him. I can't let him suffer... Even if it means that he survives and goes back to her, at least he'll still be...alive." The thought of Vaughn in pain made her want to weep. She would die before let them hurt Vaughn. "There must be something I can do... But what?"  
  
"My patience is running thin, Miss Bristow."  
  
A sudden tapping at the door caused Sark to turn suddenly, a grin playing at his lips. He turned back to Sydney, forcing her to face him with one hand.  
  
"I'll be back. And next time I won't be half as polite. I've many things to teach you, Miss Bristow, about pain and love, and I've waited far too long to have my fun."  
  
He spun on his heel and slipped into the hallway, the guards following quickly. Sydney found herself on her hands and knees once again, the floor swimming dangerously before her eyes...  
  
Los Angeles...  
  
Jack Bristow flipped open his cell phone unhurriedly. Pressing the keys without much thought, he instead reflected on his mission that had been far too easy. It was as though the Covenant had its attention focused elsewhere...  
  
"Jack, I need to speak with you. Now."  
  
He looked up at Dixon, who had a look of disgust on his usually good- natured face.  
  
"What is it?" He asked, rising and tossing his phone back down to his spotless desktop.  
  
"We've had a breach."  
  
"A breach? Of what?"  
  
"Information...and...a suspect."  
  
Jack swore forcibly. "I knew those French couldn't hold anything more dangerous than a postal worker. How long has it been?"  
  
"He's been out for two days, as far as we can tell."  
  
"What do you mean, 'as far as you can tell?' When did he escape?"  
  
"Their government tried to cover it up... We're not entirely sure..."  
  
He swore again. "Where's Sydney?"  
  
"She's...on mission."  
  
"With Vaughn." It was a statement, most definitely not one Jack liked at all.  
  
"Yes. And..."  
  
"And what?"  
  
"We may have a lead on our mole."  
  
Quebec...  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
"Of course. The look on his face when he finds out – it will be priceless... I don't think I've ever looked forward to something for so long..."  
  
"And after?"  
  
"You'll let me do the honors, won't you? I want to see him bleed. But first; of course, her. I want to watch him as she bleeds. Her life for his hatred. He'll hate me. At least, until I end his misery."  
  
Down the hall...  
  
Vaughn struggled to his feet, his knees caked with blood – some his own and some from the floor. At least, he assumed it was blood...  
  
Sydney was still on her knees in the center of the room, her body racking with dry sobs. He knelt beside her, pulling her gently into his arms.  
  
"Oh Syd..."  
  
She coughed harshly, body shaking. "Vaughn...Don't...Don't tell them anything... Please, for me..."  
  
He cradled her face in his hands, a purple bruise already marring the side of her face. He traced it gently, trying to think of a way to express all he was thinking...  
  
"I'll tell them anything that will stop them from hurting you."  
  
Her eyes filled with tears. He had always loved her eyes – so deep and fathomless. He could drown himself in them – until they filled with tears and all he could see was untold amounts of pain that scared him more than anything else ever had – except for one phone call that had shut him down for two years and took away the only thing that had ever mattered to him...  
  
"No Vaughn... It doesn't matter about me... I've no place anymore... You...you have a life that has to go on...for Lauren...for your future...for your family..."  
  
He knew her well enough to know that her words were slowly shredding her on the inside. She may have said them, but he could read her true feelings in her eyes...  
  
"How sweet," a new voice said harshly. "Except he doesn't have a family anymore."  
  
Vaughn turned slowly, not believing his ears. "No..."  
  
Sydney had turned too, her eyes wide as she took it in.  
  
Lauren Reed stood in the doorway, one hand lazily holding a gun. She leaned smugly against the frame, Sark standing not far behind, his eyes bright with humor.  
  
"Surprise, sweetie."  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Got some people to thank: Roonie: ALL RIGHT; EVERYONE HAS TO READ HER STORY: TORN! It is the BEST! SHE CAN KICK IT WITH THE BEST OF THEM! (She's my inspiration.) Mwa ha ha. And the expression is Vissez les devoirs. Long live the Spork. Now you must update, Steph...  
  
savvyspychick47: Check out her stories... So sweet, so lovable...And quite Tricky! Thanks for reviewing – you're so sweet. And the castrate thing? Got it from my Bio class – long story, if you have the time...Just kidding. Stole it from the whole 'Lookie here Sark, you move and my knife removes important parts.' I love Syd...  
  
jandl: In full Irish accent: Bloody hell! Look at the time! It's time for tea! And she and her buddy have the BEST story ever, Breaking the Covenant. Can we say 'CROSS OVER' with mucho tension between Syd and Vaughn? I love it, darling.  
  
Bubbles: You're sweet, but my story isn't THAT good...Well, maybe it is, but don't tell J.J.!  
  
CallistoRevo: Here's the thing: I'm secretly pretending to be in love with Marshall while I am really secretly in love with Sark, whose actually not Sark, but another double agent who will be revealed in Season 4, who will be a hot GOOD guy. I can't be secretly in love with Vaughn because Sydney Bristow kinda has this complex and will kill me if I touch him... What she doesn't know won't hurt her...  
  
And thanks to the rest of you who dropped me a line and now are on my 'favorite people' in the universe' list. I can't list you all here because my parole officer is banging on my door and I have to go. A'bientot! (Until later, misspelled horribly.) 


	6. Responding

Chapter 7 - Responding  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
{You know the drill.}  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"A lead? On the mole?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Who the hell is it? What the hell do we know?" Jack's voice echoed across the smooth marble floor, causing curious faces to peep over computer screens.  
  
"We have planted 'valuable' information with one of our agents. The Covenant knows this, and believes it is valid information on their kingpin, which it is not. We are hoping that the Covenant will take the bait."  
  
"Who is this agent?"  
  
"I...I'm not at liberty to say."  
  
Jack, whose face was already red with anger, exploded. "What in the hell were you thinking? Putting her life into danger like that?"  
  
Dixon looked away, silently telling Jack all that he had already guessed; that the information lay with Sydney.  
  
"Does she know she has this information?"  
  
Dixon looked away, shaking his head slightly.  
  
Jack pressed his lips together; deep valleys forming between his eyes as he fough back his anger. "Where are they staying?"  
  
"In Quebec –"  
  
Jack reached for his phone, flipping it open before Dixon finished.  
  
"– You can't call her there... The hotel's owned by the Covenant."  
  
"Fine. When was the last time she checked in?"  
  
Dixon shuffled through his papers. "They haven't yet... They've been in Quebec a total of eight hours now... They should check in within the hour."  
  
"And what if they don't?"  
  
"Then there's trouble."  
  
Quebec...  
  
Sydney shook her head, trying to clear away some of the fog that still hovered. "Lauren? With Sark? What in the hell?"  
  
Beside her, she could see Vaughn's profile start as though he had been hit. She watched without seeing as he rose to his feet; face contorted with anger, betrayal, hurt, and relief.  
  
"Relief? Why was he relieved?"  
  
He started towards Lauren, ignoring the gun that snapped to his form, ignoring Sark's chuckle, ignoring everything except his 'wife' standing in front of him.  
  
"Stop! Now!" He ignored that too.  
  
"You bitch!" He screamed as he slapped her. Two guards immediately threw him backwards to the floor next to Sydney, who moved to his side quickly.  
  
Lauren, who had slipped in her high-heeled shoes and landed on the floor, struggled to her feet, wiping slimy spots of unknown bodily fluids from her pants. It only successfully smeared it further. She swore and the guards hurried out the door, leaving only Sark and Lauren facing Sydney and Vaughn.  
  
"How dare you?" She stalked towards Vaughn, swinging the pistol in front of her and catching Vaughn in the jaw.  
  
He recovered quickly – Lauren didn't have that much power – and spat at her. "Thank God. Now it's over. I'm over this charade. I don't need this. I don't ever need to lie again. I'm glad that I can finally tell you that I don't love you; that I've never loved you."  
  
Lauren, whose face had turned an unappetizing shade of greenish red, slowly lowered her gun. "What?"  
  
"I'm glad because I can finally tell the world that I love another woman."  
  
Sark, who was snickering to himself behind Lauren, didn't notice Sydney launch herself at Lauren, catching her by surprise and knocking her off her feet. Her gun went skittering across the floor, and Sydney ran after it.  
  
Vaughn had thrown himself at Sark before Sark had even registered that Lauren was lying unconscious on the floor, face down in one nasty puddle.  
  
The fight between the two men didn't last that long, as Vaughn made quick work of slamming Sark's head against the wall. He dug in Sark's immaculate khakis – he had obviously changed after his confrontation with Sydney – and produced a set of keys.  
  
He undid his chains, and went to help Sydney, who was carefully standing up. Her skirt, which was covered in floor 'matter,' was twisted around one leg. Along her other leg were long scratches from scrambling after the gun, which she held tightly in both hands.  
  
After her chains were undone, Sydney locked ankles to wrists and left Sark and Lauren in an unconscious heap in the middle of the floor.  
  
"Vaughn, I'm..."  
  
"Don't. I should have seen it coming... At least now I don't have to –" He stopped abruptly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"No. You told me not to do it. Not for you, at least. But it wasn't just for you... It was because I didn't love her. She didn't have my heart. I wasn't going to live a lie..."  
  
"What were you going to do, Vaughn?" Sydney's voice was firm, and she stepped closer to Vaughn, limping slightly on her torn up leg.  
  
"I had...I was going to ask for a divorce. I have the papers all ready... I just needed to find the time to give them to her. The morning we were given this mission, I was reading over them, trying to decide if it was the right to do..."  
  
"Oh Vaughn... I'm sorry it had to end like this..." Sydney said as she hugged Vaughn awkwardly. He melted in her arms, as he always did. Like he always would.  
  
They pulled apart minutes later, knowing that their time was running out. They had to get out now.  
  
"Promise me one thing, Sydney."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Promise me that we'll get that vacation once we get out of here."  
  
She grinned sadly at the memory of the trip they never had. "I promise, Vaughn..."  
  
They were halfway down the hall when they encountered their first guard, whom Sydney took down without much thought, survival instincts kicking in. They threaded their way back through the building, finally finding the stairwell that they had descended just hours – or was it days? – before.  
  
Vaughn watched with a slight grin on his face as Sydney bunched soiled skirts in either hand and started up the stairs. He smiled to himself as his love for this woman in front of him surged deep and true – this time he let it without any feelings of guilt - and followed quietly.  
  
Sark had dragged them four stories underground, down past the employee parking garage and basement. The climb seemed to take days – months – the world slowing down as they fought to escape. Sydney took a back exit from the stairwell, and followed a dark hallway past employee lounges and laundry rooms.  
  
A flickering red light led them down the hallway, beckoning to them like an excited friend. Pushing open the door underneath the EXIT sign, Sydney froze, eyes darting over the landscape. "I've seen this place before..."  
  
Vaughn pushed her forwards – he could hear voices behind them. "Come on Sydney, it's time to go," he whispered in her ear as he shut the door behind them.  
  
Her legs started automatically. She was moving – Vaughn was urging her on from behind – when the sudden clarity of a gunshot pierced the night air.  
  
She spun around, finding Vaughn clutching his shoulder. "Vaughn?" His name slipped out even as she watched him fall to the ground.  
  
A tentative hand tried to discover how badly his wound was, while Sydney tried to choke back sobs.  
  
"You think you can make it? You whore!" Lauren's voice taunted the night air.  
  
Sydney frantically tried to stop Vaughn's wound from bleeding. "Vaughn? No! No, you can't! Vaughn, please, listen... I need you... I love you..."  
  
Vaughn moaned, opening his eyes slightly. Sydney looked down at him, tears spilling down her cheeks like unheeded raindrops.  
  
His lips parted slightly, "I love...you...too..."  
  
There was a gunshot, and then blackness.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - 


	7. Reckoning

Chapter 8 – Reckoning  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"London Bridge is falling down...falling down...falling down... London Bridge is falling down...my fair lady... Build it up with sticks and stones...sticks and stones...sticks and stones... Build it up with sticks and stones...my fair lady..."  
  
The tune repeated itself over and over again in her head, relentlessly pounding to the same rhythm as her heart.  
  
She stirred slightly, nearly crying out at the shock of pain that it caused.  
  
Suddenly what had happened filtered back to her... The escape, the running... The shot...Vaughn... "Oh dear God, where was Vaughn?"  
  
A familiar voice to her left caused her to cringe. "I was hoping to put you out of your misery with that bullet. It is really too bad that I missed, isn't it?" There was a pause, then the voice came again, more insistent. "Answer me. Isn't it, Sydney?  
  
A groan escaped her lips, but it was apparently what Lauren wanted to hear. She chuckled softly, the sound low and evil.  
  
"I've heard that you could withstand any torture known to man..." A prick on Sydney's shoulder caused another wave of pain to shoot down her back. "I do know, however, that you have a certain...history with this drug. If I was informed correctly, you were under its affect while viewing your own funeral. Am I accurate?"  
  
Sydney's mind began to race. It began to come to her; what Kendell had told her about her missing two years. She had attended her funeral; seen the confused pain of defeat on Vaughn's handsome face, the look of stubborn determination on her father's, the look of unabashed sorrow on Marshall's face. She had seen it all...and not been able to budge at all, unable to make them aware of that she was right there, that she wasn't dead...  
  
"Oh yes. Did they tell you? I was there too... No one knew of course, but I was there nonetheless... Keeping an eye on my husband." She spat the word harshly, like it was foreign and distasteful on her tongue. "This will be fun, won't it?"  
  
Vaughn's voice, thick with emotion, suddenly cried out. "Sydney? Can you hear me? I know you can hear me! Are you okay? Sydney?"  
  
He was against the wall, hands chained in front of him, part of her dress wrapped around his shoulder, blood staining his shirt. Two guards were posted on either side of him, guns trained on his defeated form. A bruise was already forming along his jaw. His eyes however, were burning unholy fire as they glared at Lauren, then softened as he looked at Sydney.  
  
"Vaughn..." Sydney ground out, her voice quitting on her. She could feel the unnatural coolness that was sweeping her limbs. The numbness that settled like ice awakened a terror she had never felt before. She had no control over herself.  
  
"Sydney!" Vaughn yelled as she let her head loll. She couldn't move her neck anymore, or her hands, not anything. "Sydney," he continued, "You need to stay with me... Don't give up; don't ever give up! Please, Sydney... Don't let them win!"  
  
It happened in slow motion. A guard raised his rifle and brought it down on Vaughn's injured shoulder. She could hear bones break, the cracking sound that made her skin crawl. He fell to the ground, collapsed and defeated. Lauren spun on her heel and pulled out a pistol, aiming it at Vaughn's motionless form. "I've seen this all before..."  
  
"I've waited too long for this..."  
  
And then there was that awful second where the world stood still.  
  
Los Angeles...  
  
Jack flung open the car door, slamming it swiftly behind him. They had knowingly put his daughter – his only daughter – in harm's way... What was wrong with them?  
  
He once again flipped open his phone, trying hard to concentrate on the small screen.  
  
'You have 3 voicemails.' The little light that signaled messages was flashing erratically.  
  
Typing in his password, he pressed the phone to his ear, focusing his thoughts back on the Covenant.  
  
"Jack, this is Dixon... We need to talk. Something's come up. Call me as soon as you get back."  
  
Delete that one. They had talked. And a fat lot of good that did.  
  
"Dad, it's me...I need to talk to you now. It's really important. Call me as soon as you can."  
  
He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, deep lines of frustration etching themselves between his eyes. He ignored his confusion momentarily and pressed the phone to his ear again, listening to the final message.  
  
"Hello, Mr. Bristow. You're probably wondering how I am able to call you... Let's just say that my value has jumped momentarily. And your daughter? She's in safe hands. Just wanted to let you know."  
  
Sark.  
  
Quebec...  
  
Silence. And pain. They were his only companions. He had seen the fear in Sydney's expressive eyes, and he had tried to comfort her. Tried to strengthen her with his words.  
  
But he had seen more than that. He was conscious – just barely – when Sark and Lauren had found them. Vaughn had been through many things, but the sight of Lauren's face, twisted with anger and hatred, staring down at Sydney... And the pistol, shaking in her hand... Nothing had ever frightened him more. Then she pulled the trigger – Vaughn prepared himself for death – he wouldn't live without Sydney again – and she had missed. But Sark had not been so kind and knocked her out. He didn't think she even knew what had hit her – her eyes had been locked on Vaughn...  
  
They had been taken inside, locked in the room they had just escaped from not minutes before. Sydney wouldn't wake up, and desperation had set in. He bandaged his wound as best he could, thankful that the bullet had passed completely through, not hitting any bone. Vaughn had sat for minutes, hours, days – he didn't know how long – with Sydney cradled in his arms. He murmured to her, sang to her, whispered words that he had waited nearly three years to say...  
  
And she hadn't woken up.  
  
Not once.  
  
Then the door had flown open, guards pulling Sydney from his arms and yanking him to his feet. He hadn't minded the pain – it had been his constant companion for so long. He was glad when they pushed him after the guard carrying Sydney's limp form. Her arms had been thrown out loosely to either side – she had looked like a fallen angel.  
  
They had chained her to that wall – that rack – and made him watch as Lauren beat her, enhancing already developed bruises.  
  
And she still didn't wake up.  
  
When she began to stir, Vaughn could see the malice bloom in his 'wife's' eyes. Anger that he had never imagined pored from her – he could practically see it flow across the floor, crashing at his feet like waves.  
  
A new guard – a fresh face – brought in a tray of assorted things...Needles, little vials of God knew what, a syringe...  
  
Terror – pure, unrelenting terror, not for him, but for his soul mate, laying so innocently at the mercy of a mad woman – coursed through him. His mind, his body, his soul was focused solely on Sydney's prone form.  
  
Add the cruel smirk played at Lauren's lips as she played with Sydney, bringing old wounds – emotional wounds, memories of her funeral – to the surface and probed them with harsh words...  
  
And Sydney was strong. Strong because that's who she was...  
  
But he had seen the flashes of pain across her beautiful features... She was failing... her spirit was dying – Vaughn could see it in her face. He could always read her, even when she was hiding everything deep inside, he could know her so easily...  
  
So he spoke to her, attempting with words what he couldn't do with force... He needed to live for her... He needed to stay alive for Sydney... That's the only reason he didn't make a break for the door and let them put them out of his misery...  
  
But they hadn't let him speak, driving him to the floor with an angry assault. He stayed down, not knowing what was coming next... Not willing to stand, afraid of what he might find...  
  
The only thing he thought of as he heard the cocking of a pistol was what he had missed with Sydney... He could have waited, married her, been the father of her children, woken up with his arms around her forever... And he would never be able to propose to her... Never see her in her wedding dress... Never see her first anniversary... Never see the light in her eyes when she held her first child... It was the only thing he mourned.  
  
But the shot never came. The door flew open suddenly, and Vaughn raised his head, painfully aware of his now broken shoulder. Sark was standing there, anger contorting his boyish features.  
  
"Lauren, we've had this discussion already."  
  
A snotty pout appeared, as if by magic, over her face. "But Sark..."  
  
"No. It is my turn with Miss Bristow. If you would exit, I would be much obliged."  
  
She turned and stalked out of the room, still pouting like a cross child. Vaughn recognized it immediately as an old habit of hers.  
  
Sark had turned back to Sydney, whose eyes were still locked on Vaughn. The blond turned slightly before noticing his other captive.  
  
"Ah... Perhaps it is best that he remains here for this. Chain him to the wall and leave me in peace..."  
  
The guards obeyed with a quick salute, and Vaughn found himself in excruciating amounts of pain, as they had shackled his arms above his head, never mind his mutilated shoulder...  
  
Sark turned back to Sydney, whose big eyes, wet with tears, were now focused on her new captor.  
  
"As I said before, it has been too long Miss Bristow... I have many things to ask you, and I have the permission of my superiors to use any method I like to get them..."  
  
He picked up the heavy tray and crossed the room to Vaughn.  
  
"If I remember correctly, this is Agent Vaughn, is it not?" Sark turned to Vaughn, something that resembled excitement reflected in cold blue eyes.  
  
"What are you doing? He knows nothing! Don't... What is it that you want? Please, just let him be..." Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Drops, that every time one fell, Vaughn could feel another knife slam itself into his heart.  
  
"No, no. That shall not do... Let me be blunt. Even if you were to completely profess everything that you know about the CIA, all the information on contacts, arms dealers, and all other personal that I wanted to know about, it wouldn't do you any good. As I have said, I intend to teach you some things... That drug will last for two hours. And I intend to make you regret every second of those two hours..."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - 


	8. Retaliation

Chapter 9 – Retaliation  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
{Do any of you people even read this anymore?}  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes... Seven thousand, two hundred seconds... So much could happen in only two hours... And they stretched in front of her forever, never ending...  
  
Sometimes Sydney hated the memories she had... Now was one of those times. She knew so many different ways to cause pain; taught to her, experienced by her, executed by her...and now she was learning the true meaning of torture. Agony like she had never experienced before was pumping through her veins like ice water, draining her of all thoughts save Vaughn... Her imagination was running through so many possibilities on what Sark could do to the love of her life...  
  
It made her sick.  
  
Just the thought of Vaughn – her Vaughn – in pain... She had never felt so...defenseless, so inconsequential in her life. She was watching her life end...  
  
The sound of Vaughn, hissing through his teeth, caused Sydney to bring her focus back to reality. Sark was standing in front of him, in one hand a vial of pink liquid, the other clutching a syringe that was imbedded in Vaughn's neck.  
  
And Vaughn only stood there with his eyes closed. She knew that trick; close your eyes to hide the pain... She could read his suffering in the lines between his eyes, the thinness of his lips. He was fighting to shield Sydney from his pain...  
  
And it was killing her.  
  
"You son of a –" Sydney screamed, tears finally breaking loose.  
  
"Now, now..."  
  
Sark slowly pulled the needle from Vaughn's neck and turned to Sydney, crossing the room to stand in front of her. He held the vial of fluid out smugly, shaking it slightly.  
  
"Innocent looking, isn't it? Would you ever guess that this harmless looking chemical could have Agent Vaughn screaming incoherently in a matter of minutes? And then there would be the hallucinations. And then the slow, painful death..."  
  
He paused, letting that sink in slightly.  
  
"But first I would need to inject the rest of the chemical," Here he paused, pulling out a second vial, this of a clear liquid, "and let it do its work."  
  
Sydney tore her eyes from the bottle that held her sanity... If Vaughn were to die, she would cease to exist. She knew that all too well.  
  
Looking over at him, she found his steady green eyes on her, dark with emotion. "He's still trying to protect me... Doesn't he know that any pain he feels, I feel hundreds of times worse?"  
  
Then, slowly, it began to dawn on her that her misery was causing Vaughn even more distress... It was one big cycle... Her pain caused him pain... His pain caused her pain...  
  
Sark spun back towards Vaughn, sticking the syringe into the bottle with the clear liquid. He filled the needle and pulled it out, touching it gently to Vaughn's neck.  
  
"Any last words?"  
  
Los Angeles...  
  
"Where is Jack? I need to speak to him immediately."  
  
Marshall blinked, trying to clear thoughts of Mitchell and Carrie out of his head.  
  
"Have you called his cell phone?"  
  
"Yes, and it isn't on."  
  
"Well, Mr. Bristow doesn't have a tracker on him because he's a field agent, so..."  
  
"So, what?" Dixon yelled, pacing back and forth in Marshall's small office.  
  
"So...there's nothing I can do."  
  
Quebec...  
  
He was prepared for death. What he wasn't prepared for was dieing without Sydney knowing...well, everything he hadn't had the chance to say...  
  
She was sobbing, honey eyes locked with his as Sark stood stiffly in front of him, needle poised and ready.  
  
"I have so much to say to her! I need to tell her how much I love her. About how much I need her with me. About how I spent my wedding night locked in the bathroom, sobbing, because the only thing I could think of was my betrayal... I didn't even know she was alive, and I still knew that I had betrayed her by marrying Lauren... She needs to know that I thought of her everyday. That I still think of her, every hour of every day. She needs to know that it wasn't Lauren's face that I saw when I said 'I do,' it was hers... She needs to know before it's too late."  
  
He wanted to close his eyes – he hated to see Sydney's suffering – but he couldn't. He was frozen in time, unable to do anything but watch the terror in Sydney's eyes. It tore him apart in places he had thought died the day Sydney had. Her terror scared him even more than the threat in front of him. What he wouldn't give to see her smile one last time, to die with her beautiful grin imprinted in his memories forever...  
  
And then the door flew open.  
  
Lauren stood in the doorway, customary scowl etched upon her face. Sark looked up, obviously unhappy to see her again.  
  
"What is it that you want? I am in the middle of something."  
  
"Oh, do shut up. I only came in here cause I've got to tell you something."  
  
"It can't be that important."  
  
"It is. Jack Bristow is upstairs in the lobby as we speak."  
  
"Alone? Is he armed? Has he asked for anyone?"  
  
Lauren shrugged, suddenly not interested in her news.  
  
Sark swore and hurried to the door, grabbing Lauren as he passed her. He muttered quick instructions to a guard outside the door, and then Vaughn lost sight of him as he rushed down the corridor.  
  
Men started to pour into the room; half unchaining Vaughn, half unchaining Sydney. He watched as she collapsed into their arms, still unable to move.  
  
Another guard was looking through the vials. He filled a clean syringe with liquid from one of the bottles and turned towards Sydney, pulling her hair away from her neck.  
  
"What – What are you doing?" Vaughn yelled, fighting to stand without aid from the guards.  
  
The man turned to look at Vaughn and then quickly looked away. "Sir, it is the antidote to the drug that Mr. Sark injected the girl with."  
  
Vaughn relaxed slightly, watching closely as the 'antidote' was introduced. After the man had retrieved the needle and the tray with the rest of the equipment, the guards exited, leaving Sydney and Vaughn alone again.  
  
Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, he rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms.  
  
"Sydney? Can you hear me?"  
  
She opened her eyes slowly, and then cringed slightly. "Oh, Vaughn! I can feel... I'm sore, but I can feel the pain again! It's so much better than the numbness..."  
  
Vaughn watched with adoring eyes as she sat up hesitantly and stretched slowly. "It kind of burns, right along my legs." He couldn't help but watch her, this woman that he loved with everything in him...  
  
They stood together, her using Vaughn to pull her still awakening body up, him using her to steady himself as nausea rolled through the pit of his stomach. It was only natural that they found themselves in a fierce embrace not long after. The kiss was passionate, saying everything that was necessary. Nothing had ever felt so right, or so needed right then.  
  
When the door opened, neither Vaughn nor Sydney even glanced up. It was only when they were pulled apart and shackled did the realization that it wasn't over sink in...  
  
It happened unexpectedly. The majority of the guards suddenly left the room, leaving three guards...who were paying no attention to their captives.  
  
The attack didn't last long. Somehow, Sydney managed to take two down, leaving Vaughn with the third. As he stood surveying the unconscious guard with nothing short of surprise – he couldn't remember initiating a fight... - Sydney rifled through their pockets, finding assorted ammunition and keys – lots of keys.  
  
The pain from Vaughn's shoulder was playing with his vision – and he followed Sydney blindly. Dimly he began to register that his wound was bleeding again, but his only thought was of Sydney.  
  
They were on the stairs, Vaughn clumsily hurrying behind Sydney, when they heard the clatter of gunfire ricochet off the stairs around them. They ducked instinctively, even though the bullets were coming from below. Somehow, Vaughn managed to pull Sydney through a door on the landing they were on – and they found themselves in the hallway they had made their escape through just hours before...  
  
They didn't have time; pounding footsteps behind them drove Vaughn forward after Sydney. Instead of heading to the exit sign like before, Sydney veered down a different hallway, Vaughn stumbling behind her as the pain intensified.  
  
It wasn't until they rounded a corner and found themselves looking down the barrel of a gun did they stop.  
  
"How in the hell did you get here?"  
  
- - - - - - - - - 


	9. Revolution

Chapter 10 – Revolutions  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"How in the hell did you get here?"  
  
"I was about to ask you the same thing." The gun lowered slowly.  
  
"What's going on? Did the CIA send a team in?" Vaughn asked, still breathing deeply from the pain in his shoulder and the escape that had somehow gotten them away from Sark and Lauren.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then, may I repeat, how in the hell did you get here?"  
  
"Boys," Sydney started. She could hear the footsteps getting closer. Time was running thin. "We have to go. Now. Do you know a way out of here?"  
  
Weiss nodded, gesturing to the hall behind him. "This way."  
  
They were running down the hallway when bullets began to rain down on them again. Luck held, and they ducked around a corner, listening to the hail of ammunition.  
  
"Here." Weiss held out two guns, pulled from under the jacket he was wearing. It was only then that Vaughn registered what Weiss was dressed as.  
  
"An exterminator. Classy."  
  
"Shut up." Weiss growled, shoving the weapon into Vaughn's good hand. "It's time to go."  
  
It was a classic shoot-out. Waiting for a break in the rapid rhythm of gunshots, they crouched by the corner, waiting to return fire. It was then that Vaughn really began to think. Now that he knew that Sydney was okay – he had watched her kick the pants off two men, not long after being injected with God knew what – he wanted her to live. And he wanted to live too...  
  
He wanted Sydney as his wife. And he wanted it now.  
  
There was a slight pause, but it was enough. Weiss led the charge, covering Sydney and Vaughn as they backed down the hallway, randomly shooting to distract whoever wanted them dead.  
  
What they weren't prepared for greeted them as they raced around the corner.  
  
Two stories up...  
  
Jack glanced around the gleaming lobby, knowing for certain that there was at least three cameras watching him. "Definitely one in that molding... How obvious could you be? You can see the lens from here. One in the clock, that one's pretty good... There's one in that briefcase... Marshall would laugh if he saw this."  
  
Casually checking his watch, Jack glanced at the woman who had greeted him at the front desk. With her back to him, she was trying to block him from hearing what she was saying. What she hadn't noticed was the mirror right in font of her, so Jack was easily reading her lips.  
  
"They know I'm here. Good."  
  
After Sydney's confusing message, he had called some old contacts from Quebec. And they had told him that the Covenant's new leaders had prior knowledge of the infiltration team sent in by Dixon. The Covenant also knew of the 'information' that Sydney had. And they wanted it. His contacts had told him that Mr. Sark had been told to enlist any means necessary to get this information.  
  
So, Jack had done what any father would do to protect his only daughter from harm.  
  
He had broken into CIA headquarters, infiltrated the classified documents that held information on his daughter's mission, and then went on a little shopping spree with a black arms dealer the CIA had declared a terrorist and a threat to the United States government.  
  
All in a day's work, right?  
  
Now he was standing in the lobby of an active and dangerous cell of a group of people that apparently had no conscious, no morals, no principles, and no qualms about killing hundreds of thousands of people. It was normal to be a little frightened. But only a little.  
  
Silently cursing Eric Weiss's father and mother for producing such sluggish offspring, Jack impatiently tapped his fingers on the counter, hoping that the guests milling around the spotless entrance hall took it as irritation at the slow service of the hotel staff, and not as his irritation with the slow service of whatever was going on just downstairs.  
  
Yes, Jack Bristow had gone to Eric Weiss for help. Although at this point, Jack was considering it a moment of insanity.  
  
If everything went according to plan, Weiss was supposed to be retrieving Sydney and Vaughn right then, and make it outside to the van – Weiss had rented an exterminator's vehicle, in a moment of foresight – and call Jack's cell phone to let him know that it was time to go. And all this time the Covenant was supposed to be either rejoicing or freaking that they had an esteemed member of the CIA standing just within their reach. Oh yes, Jack Bristow loved playing the role of bait.  
  
What the Covenant didn't know didn't hurt them.  
  
And if that failed to work, there was always the C-4 wrapped around certain pilings down in the basement. The pilings only served one purpose... And holding the building up wasn't that big a deal, was it?  
  
Plan B involved Weiss calling in a bomb threat, and then snagging Sydney and Vaughn as everyone went bonkers trying to escape. Jack actually kind preferred the one with the explosion. It had been so long since he had seen anything blow up; he was getting kind of bored.  
  
Back downstairs...  
  
"Now, this is a surprise."  
  
Lauren's voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Or a wet cat with its tail stuck in the door. Or a fire siren. Or maybe all three rolled into one annoying blonde package.  
  
No offense to Vaughn, or anything, but his wife was a bitch.  
  
Suddenly it hit Weiss that she shouldn't have been standing in front of them, cruel smile twisting her face even more, hands wrapped around a small pistol that was aimed at them.  
  
"What in the hell?" He repeated the catchphrase of the day as confusion set in.  
  
"How did I know I could find you here?" She asked cockily. "Let me tell you, practice makes perfect. Now, as much I want to watch you die, you horrid bitch," Lauren spat at Sydney, poking the gun in her direction, "I know that I need some information from you."  
  
Weiss could only watch this small soap opera unfold. He must have hit his head back there. Since when did Lauren openly admit her hatred for Sydney? Since when did Vaughn glare at his wife as if waiting for a moment to slap her? Since when did Lauren threaten anyone with a gun?!  
  
Lauren swung the weapon in Vaughn's direction and leveled it at his chest.  
  
"I think it's time for that information. Now."  
  
And Sydney could only stare with terror pumping through her veins, looking hopelessly between Vaughn and Lauren, having no idea what information Lauren was talking about.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - 


	10. Retributions

Chapter 11 - Retribution  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -   
  
{I'm starting with a 24 pack of everyone's favorite soda. Let's see how this goes...}  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -   
  
ROONIE! How weird is this? I'm about to post my chapter - and you've got...character injuries too! Oh my...  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -   
  
Quebec, Lobby...  
  
Now Jack Bristow was pissed off.  
  
He had been standing in the lobby - which smelled like Clorox - for over an hour. Seriously, what in the hell could Weiss be doing down there? Maybe he was...sumo wrestling with Sark. Or...frying ants with a magnifying glass... Or...trout fishing...  
  
Or maybe he got lost.  
  
Jack entertained himself with thoughts of Weiss sumo wrestling with anyone before he rang the bell sitting on the desk yet again.   
  
The lady behind the counter had disappeared shortly after ending her phone call. Somehow, Jack had the feeling that she was right around the corner, filing her nails, waiting for someone to come and take Jack off her hands.  
  
Jack hated slow service.  
  
Truthfully, he was considering whipping out the pistol he had in his suitcase and going downstairs. Then he could beat Weiss down for being so slow. And rescue Vaughn and Sydney in a timely, prompt fashion.  
  
Jack Bristow, you know, could take Eric Weiss down any day of the week.  
  
Except Wednesdays, because on Thursday he had yoga, and being sore didn't help. Yes, yoga was one of Jack's favorite classes... That and the bartending class he took a few weeks ago. There was something fascinating about being able to flip a bottle in the air and catch it.   
  
Speaking of bartending, he wanted a drink. Maybe a martini... No, something a little stronger. Dulling his senses and over all impairing his judgment didn't seem like such a bad thing from where he was standing - which is where he had been standing for the past hour and 17, no... 18 minutes.   
  
Oh yes, life was fun.  
  
Two floors down...  
  
"Wh-What information?" Sydney asked, eyes darting nervously between Lauren and Vaughn.  
  
"The information the CIA gave you about the Covenant leader. Now give it to me."  
  
Racking her brain desperately, Sydney searched for whatever Lauren was talking about. *She wants information on the Covenant. I have none. What to tell her? I mean, other than the obvious; that she's a mental bitch with an attitude problem and some serious anger management issues...*  
  
"I haven't all day."  
  
*Like hell you don't.* Sydney thought, anger starting to mar her judgment. She was pissed. And worse of all, her dress was ruined. Not to mention that the man she loved was standing in the probable path of a highly dangerous projectile... Damn it, why couldn't she solve her problems like another other spurned lover? You know, the normal way; by slashing tires or starting a cat fight in the parking lot of a supermarket or something?  
  
But no. She never had any fun.  
  
"Now that I think of it..." Sydney started, knowing full well she was playing with fire.   
  
"What?"  
  
"I think I know what you want. Let's make a deal. You put the gun down, and I'll tell you what you want to know. How's that sound?"  
  
"Whore. Do you really think I'm that naïve?" Lauren's face crinkled up, causing the already sour expression to twist and resemble something scraped from the bottom of a shoe.  
  
"Actually, yes."  
  
Lauren spun towards Sydney, spittle flying as she screamed. "What? What did you call me?"  
  
"Naïve," Sydney said with a shrug, knowing full well that Lauren Reed *was* dangerous. *At least she's not threatening Vaughn anymore,* Sydney thought with a grin.  
  
Apparently, Lauren didn't like being called naïve. She started laughing - the sound strangely warped in the thin hallway.   
  
Oh yes, something was definitely wrong with this woman.  
  
The three of them - Vaughn, Sydney, and Weiss - stared.   
  
As she started to regain control over herself, she leveled the gun at Sydney, hands shaking slightly.   
  
"That was a good one. But you over estimate your value to the Covenant. Sark wanted information. My handler wanted you alive. But I want you dead. Personal threat, you see. So go where you rightly belong, whore."  
  
And then she pulled the trigger. And this time? She didn't miss.  
  
Blackness.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -   
  
Mwa. Ha. Ha.   
  
My caffeine induced high caused my to fall into a caffeine induces coma, so I'm writing this at 3 AM after I pulled my face from the keyboard and wiped it off. (Not that I drool or anything...)  
  
So if this chapter doesn't have the same exact 'spunk,' I apologize. I had TOO much caffeine... And then I fell asleep... And it was nice...  
  
So, I'm posting. Read. Review. Or face...the wrath of my... STUFFED SEAL NAMED JOJO! AH, run for your lives, you insolent fools! You will all die!  
  
Whoa - weird caffeine rush... Now I'm dizzy!  
  
More later,  
  
Kris 


	11. Revival

Chapter 12 – Revival  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The world swam sickeningly in front of his eyes; spots and ripples dancing before him like confetti raining down from the ceiling. And try as he might, he couldn't shut it out. Reality was spitting in his face, demanding that he face the facts. Her beautiful body, so full of life and spunk the moment before, was lying grotesquely on the floor, one hand thrown up as if to shield her head, the other caught on the small of her back.  
  
"She shouldn't be like this."  
  
He was frozen in time, a victim of cruelty, of hatred. Replaying over and over in his mind was the moment Sydney had fallen, her face masked in surprise and fate's cruel twist. His soul was dead or dying on the floor in front of him, and he couldn't tear his eyes from it. And the murderer was standing there, a self-satisfied smile plastered against her sallow features.  
  
And then Lauren laughed.  
  
The sound was unusually harsh in the miniscule recesses of the hallway from hell. As her laughter rang out in spasmodic intervals, one thought floated down from the messy chaos of Vaughn's mind.  
  
She had cracked. She was nuts, crazy, mad, loony, fried, lost, mental...  
  
But she was still armed.  
  
Vaughn kept his eyes locked on Sydney's prone form, praying to anyone who would listen that she was still alive. That she would stay alive. It killed him inside to think, to even suggest, that she was dead.  
  
He would keep faith this time.  
  
The last time he had assumed, he had lost his purpose. He hadn't been alive, just existing, just making it day to day by chance. It hadn't mattered... Sydney was gone and so was he.  
  
And then Lauren. He couldn't remember the first time her saw her, or even their first kiss. What stuck out in his mind was the night of their engagement... Nothing remained of that memory other than the moment Lauren – ever controlling and brazen – proposed. He remembered her badgering him for an answer – he could see the reason now - and not taking no for that answer when he finally realized what he was doing at the restaurant with another woman.  
  
If he had lost his purpose the day his Sydney had died, he lost his soul the day he married Lauren. Actually, he hadn't lost it... It had been stolen  
  
He had been robbed by the devil.  
  
Satan.  
  
The king demon.  
  
Evil in its purest form.  
  
Lauren.  
  
Get the picture?  
  
The cocking of Lauren's pistol shattered his memories, effectively grinding all his thoughts to a halt.  
  
He tore his unseeing eyes from Sydney and trained them on Lauren, still smiling with a demonic look in her eye. The gun was shaking in her hand, but her knuckles were white from clutching the weapon so tightly. It was useless to stop her. She was mad.  
  
"An indiscretion. Yes, that's it. An indiscretion." Lauren was chattering to herself, accent twisting words and slurring them together, making it sound like one long chain of nonsense.  
  
"Sydney Bristow meant nothing. She's dead. Just a fling. Trashy whore. Michael didn't mean it. Never loved her. Never..."  
  
Vaughn watched, his usually bright eyes dead. The only thing that now evoked a passion in him was what the wench was saying.  
  
Apparently, Sydney meant nothing to him.  
  
The woman he would die to save, the woman who almost died to same him, more times than he could count, the woman who knew the story of his father and the watch, the woman who could soothe his wounds – emotional and physical – with only a word or a look; meant nothing.  
  
"Nothing my ass."  
  
He wanted to laugh too. The thought of Sydney being 'just a fling...' Oh man, maybe he was losing it.  
  
Lauren's chattering drew his attention again.  
  
"Finish it off. Make him suffer. He betrayed you. He stabbed you in the back. With her. With that trashy whore. Make it end. Make him suffer..."  
  
She was talking about Vaughn, her icy eyes staring him down. The look that could make any man wet himself was useless against Vaughn. He was numb.  
  
"So this is what an overdose of Novocain would do to you..." He reflected as his thoughts spun randomly out of control. Random pictures infused themselves in his mind then fled, leaving traces of themselves scarred upon his memory.  
  
The first moment he had seen Sydney, cheek swollen from the torture she had been through, her wary and defensive eyes peeking out from the aggressive pink hair. He had known then that his life would never be the same. That was his decisive moment; the moment he knew what it was like to live.  
  
Then the picture changed; to Sydney staring at him defensively as he explained to her that SD-6 was huge, that she couldn't take it down by herself, even if she wanted too.  
  
Which she had, come to think about it...  
  
More memories; their first kiss.  
  
The night they seduced each other.  
  
The night they had almost seduced one another.  
  
And then, finally, the night she had returned to him, alive.  
  
And kicking.  
  
He remembered the hatred in her voice before she found out it was really him. The faith that he – that her Vaughn – would never betray her by marrying another woman. And the beating she gave him to escape; to prove to herself that it wasn't reality.  
  
But it had been.  
  
A sick, twisted reality where nothing was as it seems. One where faith meant nothing and betrayal was served with every meal. Every day since the moment he said 'I do,' Vaughn had choked it down with every bite that sustained him and kept his treacherous mind alive.  
  
"Never her. Always me!" Lauren screeched to herself again, whipping the gun between Sydney's lifeless body and Vaughn.  
  
"No." Vaughn said, his voice defeated as he looked back at Sydney. He could see blood staining the floor, deep red and evil, pronouncing her sentence.  
  
"Never her. Always me." Lauren repeated, eyes wide.  
  
"No." He said it louder this time, wanted Lauren to hear it.  
  
An unearthly sound left her lips, somewhere between a fire siren and squealing brakes. The gun rose shakily towards him, and he was glad.  
  
He wanted it to end.  
  
It didn't, however. Out of nowhere, a body slammed into Lauren, flinging her backwards against the wall. Lauren fell to the floor, the gun slipping from her fingers.  
  
And then Vaughn froze. He glanced where Sydney had fallen – nothing but a pool of blood – then back at the catfight enfolding before his eyes. Lauren was clawing desperately at Sydney, shocked to find her victim still alive.  
  
And Sydney was throwing punches, trying to still the angry blonde. If Vaughn hadn't been so worried about her – about the hole that had just been ripped into her.  
  
The woman were battling it out; Lauren stretching for the pistol which was just out of her reach and Sydney battling to stay on top of her, pinning her to the floor. But Lauren, with a loud squeal of anger and strength, found the opportune moment to fling Sydney away from her and send her tumbling across the room like a rag doll.  
  
Then she scrambled for the gun.  
  
Upstairs...  
  
"This has officially gotten boring!" Jack thought, angrily slapping the counter. He had been standing there for way the hell too long.  
  
He turned towards the door, wanting to slip around back and do things his way. If he ever got hold of Eric Weiss...well, let's say Jack hoped Weiss had a good life insurance policy.  
  
So, when Jack was busily reassembling the several automatic weapons he had slipped into his suitcase, he was quite surprised to look up and find Weiss in front of him, breathing heavily.  
  
"Where in the hell have you been?"  
  
Weiss gasped in a breath. "Ran into...Lauren...Shot Sydney...Vaughn...Shit!" A look of surprise crossed his face as he remembered Vaughn, still standing there.  
  
"Lauren shot Sydney?" Jack repeated, blinking slightly.  
  
He had always thought something was up with that ugly creature Vaughn called a wife. Now that he knew something was up, it kind of took him by surprise. He didn't think that she would have slipped up this easily...  
  
Weiss nodded, and Jack took off for the building. He instinctively found stairs and followed them down.  
  
It wasn't until Weiss pointed the hallway he had left, that Jack realized how far away from CIA assistance they really were.  
  
It's not as if it's every day you attempt to rescue your daughter from her ex-boyfriend's insane wife, right?  
  
Yeah, that's what he kept telling himself.  
  
As he rounded the corner, Jack raised his weapon, prepared for anything.  
  
What he wasn't prepared for was Sydney and Lauren engaged in hand to hand combat on the floor, Vaughn lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, and Sark standing above him, a bloodied knife in his hand.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - 


	12. Relapse

Chapter 13 – Relapse  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Sydney ignored the throbbing pain in her gut and focused instead on Lauren. Nausea was rolling in her stomach, and she fought the urge to purge her insides down on Lauren, as liberating as that would be.  
  
After all, Sydney did have manners.  
  
The only thing left in her mind was revenge. Revenge for what the cow had done to Vaughn, revenge for what she had done to Sydney, and revenge for dragging blondes down another notch in the evolutionary scale.  
  
She could feel the rents in her skin from where Lauren had scratched her. One especially deep one along her jaw was bleeding; she could feel the blood running down her neck.  
  
She was so focused on gutting Lauren that she missed the action happening down the hall. It wasn't until her father pulled her from Lauren that she realized Vaughn wasn't standing against the wall where she had last seen him. No, he was face down on the floor, blood surrounding his lean frame. And Sark wasn't in sight.  
  
The world, which was already spinning before her gave a sickening lurch that made her teeter for the wall, looking for anything solid. It wasn't until she slid to the floor and buried her face in Vaughn's shirt that she realized he was still breathing.  
  
But just barely.  
  
His shoulder, still wrapped in a remnant from Sydney's skirt, was bleeding again, and blood was also pouring from the would in his back, just above his belt.  
  
The nausea returned, and Sydney ducked her head, breathing deeply.  
  
"Sydney? Sydney, are you alright?"  
  
She raised her head and met her father's concerned gaze.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Come on, we have to get out of here."  
  
"Take Vaughn first. I don't know...I think it's really bad."  
  
Jack Bristow looked down, deep creases forming between his eyes as he surveyed the wound.  
  
"It may have hit a kidney. Come on Weiss, help me with Agent Vaughn."  
  
"What about her?" Weiss rudely gestured at Lauren. "She'd try to get away."  
  
"Fine. We'll take her first. Dammit, come on!"  
  
Sydney watched them drag Lauren down the hallway. She had refused to walk, so the two agents had to carry her between them. As soon as they rounded the corner, she stood, biting her tongue as the hot flashes of pain started shooting down her legs again.  
  
The bullet had hit her just above her hip, definitely causing major pain, but not bleeding all that much. At least, not outwardly, which wasn't a good sign. Internal bleeding could have you dead in minutes.  
  
Looking down at Vaughn, Sydney offered a prayer heavenward for his safety when the first gunshots echoed down the hallway.  
  
But Sydney never heard them.  
  
Down the hallway...  
  
Sometimes Jack Bristow would have liked to kill Eric Weiss. He did not however, expect it to happen right in front of him. A shot sounded, then another; and Weiss snapped backwards, and fell to the floor, eyes wide in shock.  
  
Lauren, however, was ready for whatever in the hell was happening. She scrambled to her feet and sped towards a hallway that branched off into heart of the building.  
  
Jack watched her go, then turned to find Weiss picking himself off of the floor.  
  
"I think I love you, Jack." Weiss started, poking at the lumps of metal embedded in his bulletproof vest.  
  
"Shut up." Jack growled, not liking the fact that he was happy the round little man was alive.  
  
"Come on, you know you love me."  
  
"No, not really."  
  
"Wait. Weren't there three of us?"  
  
"Way to be on top of things."  
  
"Shit."  
  
Jack didn't say anything.  
  
"What are we going to do?"  
  
"Get Sydney and Vaughn out of here."  
  
A new voice sounded. "Not if I have a say in it."  
  
Back down the hallway...  
  
Sydney tore at her skirt again, pulling another long strip off fabric off. The dress hung in an uneven diagonal along her thighs, revealing long scratches and large bruises.  
  
She bent to Vaughn again, rolling him gently onto his back, wrapping the material around the knife wound. His eyes fluttered hesitantly, and Sydney pressed her lips together as he let out an unearthly moan.  
  
Now she was the one cradling him.  
  
She settled his head in her lap, stroking his messy hair gently. Her thoughts settled inside, focusing on the fact that there still was a chance.  
  
There was a chance for him to survive. For him to return to her, become her Vaughn again. A chance of becoming Mrs. Vaughn. Of having his children. Of being able to fall asleep and wake up in the same exact place – wrapped in his strong embrace.  
  
There was still a chance.  
  
It was her mantra – the thing that kept her breathing in and out – as she slipped into unconsciousness to join Vaughn in numb bliss.  
  
Back the other way... {Confused yet?}  
  
"Wow. That was so...original." Jack spat, about to crack.  
  
Sark was in front of them. He had lost the knife, Jack noticed, and now was toting a rather heavy piece of machinery. Nothing compared to what Jack's dealer had gotten him, but still a nice piece of metal.  
  
"I was put on the spot. You can't expect me to be perfect."  
  
"Dammit, yes I can."  
  
"Temper, temper." Sark said, slowly circling towards Weiss, who was still winded from the bullet shots before.  
  
"I see. Really, I expected nothing less. Can't even take your bullets like a man. Stand up." Sark said as he spotted the thick vest.  
  
Jack snorted through his nose, fighting to keep a clear head.  
  
"Speak for yourself." Weiss called out as Sark's weapon poked him in the ribs, fully dangerous in close proximity.  
  
Jack shook his head. Then he brained Sark with the butt of his own weapon, causing the man to collapse into an unmoving pile of freshly tailored cloth and silk.  
  
You got to admit, Sark dressed to kill. {Groan...Horrible joke, I know. Couldn't help myself.}  
  
After he and Weiss successfully hauled the unconscious man to a janitor's closet and locked the door, jamming a chair underneath the handle to further halt their captive, they raced back to where they had left Vaughn and Sydney.  
  
"Oh my God." Weiss started, closing his eyes and gulping in deep breaths when they rounded the corner.  
  
The hallway was splattered with blood, some running down the wall, others fresh on the floor. Along the floor where new puddles of blood, drag marks leading from one to another. The place looked like a battle zone. The smell made even Jack's hardened stomach twist and roll.  
  
And Sydney and Vaughn were nowhere in sight.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - 


	13. Reckless

Chapter 14 – Reckless  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Weiss gave a heave and bent as his body reacted to the sight in front of him.  
  
It definitely wasn't pretty.  
  
The blood was glinting in the fluorescent lights, winking evilly at Jack. It could be Sydney's blood scattered like fallen rubies. It might have even been Vaughn's, but whoever it was probably wasn't doing to well right about now.  
  
The sound of a low grinding caused Jack to look over his shoulder. It echoed in the small room and was impossible to place. Other sounds filled the hallway: creaking, banging, the sounds of footsteps in the hallway above...They were all muddled together, forming an orchestra of sound that fit into the terror ripping at Jack's heart.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
Earlier...  
  
The blackness was thick, piling on him like a down comforter, cutting off his only link to life- the stagnant air that filled his lungs. Stale and musty, but still a gift. It supplied him the only chance at survival. He could feel his body giving up, letting the blackness win...  
  
But he fought it, forcing air in and out...in and out... He tried, with everything in him, to focus on Sydney, on her beautiful face, her smile... The blackness had other ideas, smothering him again. Visions of Lauren's treacherous face flashed before him, hideous and scarring, and suddenly he knew he was dying.  
  
It hit him with a clarity that he found soothing almost. Death wasn't frightening...It was what was left unsaid that was frightening... Random pictures of a life that wouldn't be flickered in the wavering darkness, unsettling as he viewed what life with Sydney would have been like...  
  
One burned into his mind with such clarity, such passion, that all thoughts of giving in vanished from his mind. Sydney, cooing over her child – their child – and he, trapped in the background, unable to approach.  
  
His lungs suddenly burned as he regained control, tearing away the blackness, the darkness, and opening his eyes.  
  
The world was distorted, tilted, changed, and Vaughn looked up, shocked to find Sydney's peaceful face floating above him. No, not floating...She was there, completely unmarred by the hell surrounding them... Their blood was on the floor, smeared like a gruesome trail that told an unhappy story. Random weapons littered the floor; bullet casings and empty magazines... Bits of plaster crumbled on the floor from where bullets had wrecked their havoc...  
  
He closed his eyes again and drew in a steadying breath, not surprised to find shooting pain race along his limbs like the winged messenger of the gods.  
  
He pulled himself to his hand and knees, ducking his head to focus as the pain seared along his body again and again, leaving burning kisses on his skin.  
  
A low chuckle drew his attention from within and he recognized it at once – the voice of his 'beloved.'  
  
Suddenly a loud voice rang through his skull... It was his own voice, mocking and harsh...  
  
"I, Michael Vaughn, take thee, Lauren Reed, to be my lawfully wedded wife..."  
  
"You should have died the moment that whore came back."  
  
Vaughn shook his head, the voice echoing and pounding in his mind.  
  
"No? When then? The night you called out her name when we were in bed together?"  
  
Her heard her heels clicking on the floor tiles, pacing nearer to him. He traced the lines in the concrete with his eyes, seeking anything that would aid him in this battle for his life...  
  
"How about the night I returned the favor? Does it hurt you to know that I had my own affair? Does it, Michael?"  
  
"To have and to hold..."  
  
The voice returned, louder.  
  
"I never...had an affair..." He ground out, prying his thoughts from the grasp of the vows, ringing in his ears. "Sydney was...too good...to lower herself...to sleeping with...a married man..."  
  
"That whore? She probably knew I'd kill her. She was scared. Scared of me..."  
  
"In sickness and in health..."  
  
Vaughn shifted slightly, sending casings skittering across the floor. Then he saw what he was looking for... Just a little off to the left...  
  
"She wasn't scared..." Vaughn muttered.  
  
"It doesn't matter now, does it? You are standing on the brink of death, Michael Vaughn. It would be my pleasure to finish it for you."  
  
Before he had even registered her words, his hand reached, stretched, clawed for the gun – his gun – that he had dropped when Sydney had been shot. He swung it up, blindly aiming and fired  
  
A single shot tore from the barrel and raced across the room, and then an empty clicking that spoke of the empty barrel.  
  
He lifted his eyes from the smoking gun and fastened them on Lauren. She was standing in front of him, shock etched on her features. She looked spooked, as though she thought she was about to die.  
  
Then she laughed, the gun lowering slightly as her peals of amusement assaulted the hallway. When she stopped suddenly, Vaughn looked up, surprised. He had missed; that was that... At least, that's what he thought until blood began pouring form a wound in her side.  
  
"Till death do us part..."  
  
The gruesomeness wasn't lost on Vaughn as he heard the horrible yelping that came before death. He didn't want to turn around...  
  
Eventually he turned slightly, the sounds having stopped. Blood was everywhere, soaking everything, but the sight, as violent and morbid as it was, actually brought Vaughn the first ounce of peace he had felt since he had been told that Sydney was gone forever...  
  
Lauren's still body lay in the middle of it all, her once blonde hair soaked red, her neatly pressed jacket stained with her own punishment...  
  
Vaughn stood, not understanding his own actions until he was looking down at his wife. Her eyes were still open, unseeing, focused just above his head.  
  
Instinct made him move the body. He didn't want Sydney to awake to find a corpse awaiting her... Who knew what guilt she would place on herself?  
  
He dumped Lauren around a corner, unable to carry the burden any farther. His body was protesting, demanding that he give in...  
  
But he returned to where Sydney lay, curled in upon herself, face still angelic, even when pain flickered across it lightly, jerking her features into a grimace then passing by, leaving no calling card.  
  
He scooped her into his arms, her weight considerably less then his departed wife's, and started down the hallway, eager to leave this place behind...  
  
Staggering through the winding hallways only served in confusing him. The ebbing flow of pain was lessening and Vaughn found himself starting to slide into the blackness again. The warmth winding down his back confirmed he was bleeding again, and the dull throbbing in his shoulder kept him from shifting Sydney's weight.  
  
A hazy light beckoned him, and he weaved toward it, glad to see a change in the monotonous gray walls. A red 'EXIT' sign flashed down on him, the 'T' blinking wildly, just on the brink of burnout.  
  
He flung open the door, the sunlight startling him. They had been taken downstairs late in the evening...Who know how long they had been down there?  
  
The light blinded him for a minute, and he paused, turning Sydney so the light didn't fall across her face. He stumbled forward, towards the only vehicle in sight.  
  
Leaning against it, he slid down to a sitting position and finally allowed the blackness that had been circling to descend and take control again.  
  
That was why he didn't hear the crunching of gravel as footsteps approached.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - 


	14. Relations

Chapter 15 – Relations  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Back in the hallway...  
  
Jack wanted to shut it out, to deny that someone was dead. His training wouldn't let him and he searched for any hint of life – or death. At this point all he wanted was something other than the pools of blood and ammunition casings that littered the floor.  
  
Weiss, after gathering himself together, began to look as well. He was the one who called Jack's attention to the trail of blood that led down the hallway – away from the mess.  
  
They looked at each other – Weiss's wide eyed gaze matched by Jack's dark brooding one – and simultaneously reloaded their weapons.  
  
The followed the markers, not knowing for sure what they would find at the end of it. Several corners later found Jack and Weiss staring at a door, the handle smeared with blood.  
  
It was all Jack could do to open the door. He would either find an extension to the trail before them, or a rather messy looking corpse... And at this point Jack wasn't sure which he wanted.  
  
The sunlight warmed Jack even as ice flooded through his body at the sight of his daughter and Vaughn collapsed near the van – Weiss' van.  
  
He blinked at the spectacle before him. Vaughn was simply drenched in blood, the wrap on his shoulder completely black from the wound underneath.  
  
And Sydney was wrapped in his arms, looking for all Jack knew, like death. He could see blood from Vaughn's shoulder tarnishing her cheek, so dark against her pale face.  
  
Blood was even on the van behind them – following Vaughn down to where he sat, either passed out...or dead.  
  
As Jack tried to pull Sydney out of Vaughn's powerful grip, he was surprised when the younger man opened his eyes, tightening his grip on Sydney.  
  
Vaughn muttered something, wildly shaking his head.  
  
"Vaughn! Vaughn, it's me...Jack! Jesus, let go of my daughter."  
  
He paused, tilting his head back to look up at Jack, who was standing above him, looking for all the world like a father who caught his teenage daughter necking with her boyfriend.  
  
Then he loosed the grip he had on Sydney, and Jack could feel tears welling up inside of him... He hadn't cried since... His daughter's funeral.  
  
The rest was a blur. Jack wouldn't relinquish his hold on Sydney's limp body, looking for all the world like an large rag doll who had been left in the rain.  
  
"She isn't supposed to be like this."  
  
The trip in the van was filled with tension, Vaughn's lean body sprawled on the floor in front of Jack, who had one hand holding a wad of gauze against Vaughn's gunshot wound, and one against Sydney's gunshot wound. Jack prayed, only ceasing when the labored breathing paused occasionally, then resumed when he listened as they sucked in air again, keeping them alive.  
  
Weiss drove, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He broke every law known to man, and Jack was mildly surprised when no one tried to stop them.  
  
Their arrival at the hospital was heralded by a crisis.  
  
Almost simultaneously, Vaughn and Sydney stopped breathing.  
  
Nurses and doctors swarmed the van, checking for vitals, then pumping their lungs. They were put onto gurneys, wheeled into the hospital where their fate was unchangeable. Either they would both survive, or they both would die.  
  
Jack understood this as he watched the automatic doors slide shut, being restrained by assorted nurses, some splattered with the victims' blood.  
  
He understood that Vaughn was good enough for his daughter. He understood his daughter and her incomprehensible love for a man who had married another woman. He understood that they were meant to be together.  
  
And they couldn't live without each other.  
  
That was why Vaughn hadn't died when Sydney supposedly did. It was because she was still alive, still on this Earth, that Vaughn made it through.  
  
And either both would make it through this or...  
  
They wouldn't.  
  
It was the way things had to be.  
  
Four days later...  
  
It was hard remembering.  
  
Not only did his head ache, but he was acutely aware of a warm oozing pain that was spreading outward from his arm and his lower back.  
  
What he did remember flashed through his mind vividly, like a slide show out of control.  
  
Snapshots, almost, with every memory engrained perfectly. The details were outstandingly sharp, alive and bright.  
  
The pattern of the bedspread in the hotel room...  
  
The stray hair that caught in the corner of Sydney's mouth when she spoke to him...  
  
The smell of roses, sitting on the table, heavy and drooping with their silky petals...  
  
The sound of tinkle of crystal, audible from the room next door...  
  
Little things...  
  
What came next eluded him. Still, memories flashed bright, then disappeared, but he couldn't place them...  
  
He stared at the curtain that cut him off from the rest of the civilized world and brooded, trying to piece together what happened.  
  
The sound of a cool British accent from outside his curtain brought it all flooding back. Images, faces, confessions, thoughts, feelings; all ran through his head with the force of a speeding train on its way to derailment.  
  
Vaughn snapped his head up at the voice, every sense on high alert.  
  
"How are you doing? The Doctors were saying that you almost didn't make it, sweetie."  
  
He relaxed almost instantly as he saw the shadow of a man lean over and kiss whoever was in the other bed in the room.  
  
A sense of foreboding made him pause. He was forgetting something. Something important... Something...  
  
"Sydney."  
  
He flung himself out of bed, ignoring the clatter of assorted instruments being flipped over by his unexpected exit. The pain that shot through his back also slowed him down, but he would not be waylaid until he found Sydney...  
  
A shadow in the doorway stopped him, and Vaughn found himself in front of Sydney's father, Jack's face drawn into a mask of nothingness.  
  
"Mr. Bristow..."  
  
"Mr. Vaughn."  
  
"I need to see Sydney."  
  
Vaughn watched as Jack's face tightened, his mask becoming stonier, before Jack spoke again.  
  
"I know. I came to see if you were awake yet. She's been asking for you."  
  
Ten minutes later found them both at Sydney's bedside, Vaughn barely able to see over the side of the bed as Jack had pushed him into a wheelchair against Vaughn's – very loud – objections.  
  
His hand was already entwined with hers, her white fingers mingling with his darker ones. The sight, once so familiar, caused myriad thoughts to float to the surface.  
  
This was okay now. They were okay now.  
  
"Vaughn?"  
  
Her voice was rough, but it still warmed Vaughn from the inside out, doing something that Vaughn hadn't been able to do with alcohol, with counseling, with Lauren...  
  
It made him whole again. It fixed him.  
  
"Daddy?" She spoke again. "Could you let me have some time with Vaughn? You've had the entire morning."  
  
Vaughn heard Jack stand, but he didn't look away from Sydney.  
  
She was laying against the pillow, her features whiter than the sheets. The only contrast was her dark hair, mussed against her cheek. Assorted wires and tubes snaked across her body, hooking her to machines that hummed steadily.  
  
"Vaughn?" She asked, squeezing his hand slightly.  
  
He shook his head, clearing out the thoughts he had gathered. They fled like leaves under a strong breeze, fluttering down around him with random patterns and dances.  
  
"What happened? After...after I passed out... I don't remember anything..."  
  
Vaughn closed his eyes, reliving those moments.  
  
His last moments as a married man. The moment he became a widower.  
  
"What happened, Vaughn?"  
  
"I...I killed Lauren. And then I carried you outside...I don't know what happened after that. I don't know."  
  
"Lauren's dead?" Her voice was low, deadly serious.  
  
"Yes. I...I watched her die."  
  
She was silently, her dark eyes focused on their hands.  
  
"She deserved it." He spoke again, trying to tell her that it wasn't her fault.  
  
"Vaughn, I'm sorry..." He could hear the pain in her voice; hear it echoing inside his own head. "I'm sorry that she betrayed you like that."  
  
He nodded, his head moving up and down of its own accord.  
  
He wasn't sorry. Wasn't sorry at all.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - 


	15. Recovery

Chapter 16 – Recovery  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Jack glanced back down at the letter in his hand, skimming through it again, still unable to wrap his mind around the news it contained.  
  
It just couldn't be right.  
  
Dear Dad;  
  
Hey. I know I have some explaining to do, so here goes.  
  
After Vaughn and I were released from the hospital, we decided some time away would be great. And you know what? This time is great. It's soothing, calming, relaxing...  
  
But I'm ahead of myself...  
  
Vaughn made the arrangements. All I had to do was show up. And I did, Weiss in tow. I mean, somebody had to carry my bags. And don't worry; Weiss gave Vaughn the whole 'you take care of her and if anything happens to her, I'll have your hide as a throw rug' discussion.  
  
And now we're on vacation. It's heaven here, it really is. The sun is always shining, the air is just warm enough, but never too warm and I've never felt better.  
  
Please tell Dixon that we're both sorry we took off like that. I know if he really needed us, he'd hunt us down, but so far their have been no distraction explosions or all-in-black men to disturb us, so I think he's okay with it. I think.  
  
Right now, I'm sitting on the beach, happily burying my feet in the white sand. Oh Dad, I wish you could see it... The water stretching for miles, blue as the sky. You can't tell were one ends and the other begins. The just fade into one another, merging just beyond your line of sight.  
  
Vaughn's inside, supposedly making lunch. I have a feeling he's on the phone, ordering something. He's been so sweet, Dad, always taking care of me.  
  
I know you said once that he was just a silly boy who wasn't good enough for me, but now I have to disagree and tell you so.  
  
For example, I love him. And it's not some little fling either, it's that all consuming love that you can only feel once in your life.  
  
And he loves me. He can't stop telling me. When I wake up, he mutters it in my ear; before I drift off at night, he whispers it to me. If I'm in the kitchen, flipping through the paper, he'll spell it out to me with his bread crusts from the sandwich I made him.  
  
And you know what?  
  
I tell him right back. The words always seem to slip out, trying to make up for the years they haven't been said. It's as though we have to catch up with the rest of the world.  
  
I love him. And he loves me.  
  
That should be reason enough for you. I know that you may not respect him as much as I would like, nor do you look at him like anything other than a boy who has hurt your daughter, but I need you to forgive him. Please. For me.  
  
This brings me to the last announcement I'll make today.  
  
I know you may never get over it, Daddy, but I need you to. I need you to be there for me whenever. I want us to be a happy family, not one torn apart because of stupid spats...  
  
Not that the spat between you and mom and the United States government is stupid or anything.  
  
I'm going to marry him.  
  
He proposed on the beach, pulling out a beautiful ring... Do want to know what he told me?  
  
He told me that he had gotten the ring before I disappeared. He kept it, never really knowing why. It's been in a bank vault for the last year, and every week he'd go and open the vault, trying to force himself to throw it out.  
  
But he never could.  
  
And then I came back, stumbling upon their happy family, and he told me he knew why he couldn't throw it out. It was because it was still going to be used.  
  
And now it has.  
  
Oh Dad, I'm going to be Mrs. Vaughn... I can't think of anything that would make me happier, short of one thing.  
  
I want you to come to the wedding and walk me down the aisle.  
  
Dixon can find me.  
  
Your little girl;  
  
Sydney  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - 


	16. Rapture

Chapter 17 – Rapture  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The sickly sweet smell of decaying flesh made her stomach roll and she closed her eyes, willing the nausea to pass. As it rolled on its merry way, leaving her feeling stable again, she opened her eyes again, squinting against the white light filtering through the trees. She glanced downwards, trying to ascertain where she was. The sight of what her hands were doing of their own accord made bile rise in her throat. Her hands were stained with blood, digging merrily in the brown soil. The front of her dress was stained with mud, mixed in with more blood, creating a gory cocktail that made her gag. And her dress? What was once a beautiful gown, now impossible to determine that it once used to be white. White, as in a wedding dress... She jerked her head to the side, willing to ignore the blood, the gore. That was when she saw him, sprawled on the grass alongside her, deep jade eyes staring unseeing up into her own. A single round hole, evil and horrid in the middle of his forehead, told the end of his tale even as she gave into the black creeping around her, encompassing her vision and making her ill.  
  
A shriek that would have waken the dead escaped her lips as she sat up in bed, flinging the covers away from her and wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "Not again," The thought jumped at her. "Every night since he's proposed. And I wake up at the same spot... Every time."  
  
Arms suddenly slid along her waist, drawing her back down to the bed, folding her into their warm embrace.  
  
"Same dream?" The voice was warm and soothing, calming her nerves even as they sent her into overdrive. His hands were unconsciously rubbing the skin in between her pajama bottoms and shirt, causing unholy thoughts to flood her mind.  
  
She didn't even need to respond; just a simple nod and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling her tighter against his body. His lips began burning a trail down her face, over her cheek and onto her neck. His kisses did wonders to her, as she forgot about the dream and instead focused on the delicious shivers skating up and down her back as if on roller skates.  
  
Suddenly she hated him.  
  
After all, he was the one who decided they would 'hold off' until their wedding night. He was also the one who decided that sharing a bed would be okay. Just as long as nothing else happened. And she had been stupid enough to agree. She had forgotten about a blessing given to men and women called 'hormones.' And oh my God, were they raging.  
  
And now she wished he wasn't a man of his word.  
  
Her hands involuntarily traced their way along his back, teasing the cords of muscle and smiling as she felt him tense. He shifted, and she found her hands trapped over her head, his eyes serious as they looked down into hers.  
  
"What's wrong, Mr. Vaughn?" She teased him, arching upwards to kiss the tip of his nose.  
  
He sneezed, the gesture unbalancing him enough to allow Sydney readjust, now able to reverse their positions should the need arise. A smirk tested his lips, and he stuck his tongue out at her.  
  
She was deadly serious as she spoke, "Don't make threats you have no intention of following through with, sir."  
  
He blushed, and then a devilish look overtook his handsome features, making him grin down at her.  
  
"Who said it was a threat?" She looked up at him, eyes wide as he watched her.  
  
And just before he decided to do something they both knew they'd regret – or worse, enjoy – he found himself on his back, looking up at Sydney's triumphant face.  
  
"Now, now, do behave and stay on your side of the bed. I need to get some sleep."  
  
Vaughn's face smoothed itself into something that resembled apologetic and pouted up at her. "You're no fun. All I wanted was a little kiss..."  
  
Sydney felt herself crumbling under his soulful gaze. She kissed him, the contact causing hands to wander and breathing to get unusually heavy.  
  
Quite a few minutes later, the kiss broke, and Vaughn groaned as he gathered pillows and blankets to spend the rest of the night on the couch.  
  
This was the third week of him spending the remainder of a night out in the living room of the small bungalow. Sydney had tried to tell him that she didn't want him to leave her, but he seemed just as determined to follow through with his promise.  
  
Sydney slid over to the side of the bed that he had just vacated and buried her head in Vaughn's remaining pillow, breathing in the crisp scent that she still remembered from before.  
  
It was heaven, being here with Vaughn, knowing that in only a day she would be his and he hers forever. It was like something out of a drug induced dream, something so light and happy and fluffy that obviously should be illegal.  
  
But this wasn't. She could still feel the bandage on her stomach, the wound underneath just about healed. The other night she had carefully re- bandaged Vaughn's injuries, slower to heal as his trek with her outside had cost his body a lot. And in her perfect dream, there wouldn't be a single white line at the base of his ring finger, a painful reminder of what their life had been like just weeks before.  
  
Except now, the line was orange. Vaughn had wanted to hide it so badly that he had gone out and bought self-tanning cream. It hadn't matched at all. The strip was an almost blazing orange, drawing more attention then it had before.  
  
All Sydney could do was laugh.  
  
This was what her life was supposed to be like; filled with laughter and love, something so pure and untouchable that nothing could bring them down from their cloud.  
  
The next morning found Sydney curled on the floor next to the couch, her hand entwined with one of his, a smile on both their faces.  
  
"Good morning," was the groggy salute from the couch.  
  
"Good morning," Sydney replied, pulling herself off the floor and draping herself on top of him. He rolled over, sandwiching her between the back of the couch and his body, effectively trapping her for as long as he wanted.  
  
Or until Sydney took matters into her own hands and shoved him off the couch, commandeering the entire thing for herself until Vaughn would get the hint and putter around the kitchen to prepare her breakfast, which usually consisted of cereal and toast, both usually cold by the time he would bring it over.  
  
Until then, however, Vaughn was busily playing with her hair, twisting it into little spirals, and stroking the ends along her neck and cheeks. "What do you want to do today?"  
  
Sydney laughed, poking him on the forehead. "Don't you remember what today is?"  
  
"The day for me to jump your bones in the shower?"  
  
Vaughn was teetering unusually close to the end of the couch, but he locked a hand around Sydney's waist, threatening to take her down with him.  
  
"Today's the day Daddy comes to visit."  
  
She watched him pale visibly, the tan smudges he had acquired out in the bight sun becoming white as he realized what she was taking about.  
  
"Agent Bristow's coming? Why?"  
  
"Call him Jack, please. And he's coming because tomorrow we're getting married. Or did you forget that too?"  
  
"No, that I remembered, 'cause I get cake. And some action," he teased, kissed her temple softly. "When will he get here?"  
  
"We're supposed to pick him up at two, but knowing him, he'll be here in about thirty minutes."  
  
"Just enough time for me to successfully swan dive off the balcony and onto the sand below."  
  
"When he called he didn't sound that upset about the whole thing."  
  
"That's because God knows what he could pack into his suitcase that would cause me bodily injury."  
  
"I asked him to lay off the explosives."  
  
"But you made no mention of other ammunition, did you?"  
  
She silenced him with a raised eyebrow, a silent gesture that made him close his mouth with a snap. Then they concentrated on more interesting tasks, quite happily melding together.  
  
The rest of the day floated by, small milestones achieved as Jack showed up with an impromptu knock, followed by the announcement that he'd rented a hotel room in town. They spent the day together, clustered on the beach, planning and discussing what was going to come to pass the next day.  
  
As Sydney and Vaughn curled up in bed together that night, Vaughn's arm protectively thrown around her waist, and her legs entwined with his, they couldn't help but stare into the darkened night as reality sunk in. This was what they had been waiting for. There time had come and now they were going to be together forever.  
  
The next morning was a blur. Sydney, having slept through the night for the first time since being released from the hospital and their pills and drugs, awoke long before Vaughn. She dug out a pair of sweats and a shirt, leaving a hastily scribbled note explaining where she was.  
  
She needed to run.  
  
She wasn't supposed to; the wound in her stomach was supposed to heal for another week, but scar tissue was slowly overtaking it, letting her know that she was well on her way to full health.  
  
The jog cleared her mind as she focused on nothing and everything, all at the same time. Random thoughts about the last few weeks floated through her head then skittered away, leaving nothing behind but anticipation for the coming event.  
  
Her wedding. Her and Vaughn's day. This was it.  
  
When she returned, she found an empty bed and steam pouring from the ajar bathroom door, the shower running in full force. She also discovered her father, frowning down at a newspaper as he sipped at gourmet coffee from a Styrofoam container, the scent making Sydney's mouth water.  
  
"Hey, Dad," she said as she curled up on the stool next to him.  
  
"Good morning." His voice was cold and curt, but Sydney recognized it as him trying to hide his real emotions.  
  
"I'm glad you came."  
  
Jack tore his eyes from the paper and looked up at her, his severe expression softening just slightly. "Me too," he said at length, the words barely audible. "I hope that he makes you happy."  
  
Then he returned to his paper, the crisp paper making a familiar crinkling noise as he straightened it.  
  
She pulled herself from her perch and headed to the other bathroom that held the necessities for her to get ready. A hot shower later, she found herself looking critically at herself in the mirror. A flash from her hand caught her eye and she grinned, crossing her eyes at her self- consciousness.  
  
This was going to be a good day.  
  
Across the house...  
  
This was going to be a great day.  
  
Vaughn could tell. Falling asleep with Sydney in his arms last night, awaking to know that today they could unite their lives forever... This was the stuff dreams were made of.  
  
Unless the damn tie ruined it first.  
  
Vaughn had struggled with it for the better part of an hour, trying to get it to lie just so. But did the damn piece of silk want to oblige? No! This was why he needed Sydney. She could do all the things he couldn't do.  
  
Then there was the physical attraction, add in the undeniable love, and you've got the perfect couple.  
  
"I knew you couldn't go through with this without me." The voice burst Vaughn's thoughts like a soap bubble, sending them scattering.  
  
"Damn it, Weiss, if I needed your help I would've invited you."  
  
"I know. That's why you invited me to the last one." Weiss' voice was surprising sober as he laid a hand on Vaughn's broad shoulder.  
  
"Please, clarify."  
  
"Don't tell me you've started drinking this early."  
  
"No. As usual, you just don't make much sense."  
  
"I see. Remember? I practically had to club you to drag that vodka out of your hand. Never seen you hit anything harder than red wine that early until that day. It was hell for you. You didn't want to go through with it. But...but I made you, even after giving you that entire spiel about remaining true to yourself. Thought I was blowing steam. See now I had some sense."  
  
The memories came back slowly, hesitantly. They were painful. He remembered the vodka...but what Weiss didn't know about were the pills, the painkillers...all he had been trying to do was numb the pain. He wasn't supposed to meet anyone at the alter but Sydney. No one. But she was dead, so he was told. She wasn't coming back...  
  
But her eyes had haunted him that day, driving him half mad with their dark, faithful depths. She was there, with him, watching him.  
  
And when Lauren came down the aisle...Vaughn could've sworn he saw Sydney, glowing in all her beauty.  
  
It had been the pills. The alcohol. It wasn't until Lauren had dragged him to that hotel that he had realized that it hadn't been his Sydney, but another woman...  
  
"You've always had sense. Telling me to go for her, even when I could've lost my job. What you knew was that I could've lost something more important than that... Weiss, I love her so much..."  
  
Weiss grinned slightly. "No cold feet about this one?"  
  
"None. I've only got one problem with this wedding."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It should've happened two years ago."  
  
"I see," Weiss said, raiding his eyebrows mischievously. "So there would be lots of little Vaughns and Sydneys running around terrorizing Jack?"  
  
"That too."  
  
"You're a bad man, Mr. Vaughn."  
  
"The worst."  
  
"I've one thing to say to you."  
  
"Oh? What? A threat from the teddy bear?"  
  
"Yes. I swear on Jack's illegal arms collection that if you hurt my best drinking buddy at all..."  
  
"You'll..?"  
  
"I'll hire Jack to hunt you down."  
  
"Point taken."  
  
"Good. Now let's get on with this wedding."  
  
Forty-five minutes later, both Vaughn and Weiss were standing in the front yard, eyes locked on the front door. It was almost ten and both were already sweating in the pale morning light.  
  
Last minute changes had been made, and now Weiss was to be officiating over the wedding. He had, after all, married Marshall and Carrie, so this was completely legal.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
Standing on either side of the cobblestone pathway that led to the 'alter' were Marshall and Dixon, both sets of eyes locked on the door that would soon open to reveal the bride.  
  
A slight chime in the distance announced the arrival of ten o'clock, and the front door opened. The small gathering of people took in a breath collectively; still staring down the door, as if watching it would make it open any faster.  
  
Out stepped Sydney, eyes bright. Her gown, something Vaughn hadn't the privilege of seeing previously, was stunning. A long, form fitting gown, the slit up the side revealing a lean, tan leg, covered the woman in the doorway perfectly. The simple off the shoulder design drew attention to her slim throat, hung with a single diamond on a silver pendant.  
  
She was breath taking.  
  
Jack held her arm, waking soberly across the lawn with his daughter. It wasn't until he was standing across from Vaughn that a slight grin played along the elder Bristow's lips.  
  
"Take care of her, son." The voice was softer than Vaughn remembered, the speaker mellowed out somehow.  
  
It kind of frightened Vaughn to think that the untouchable Jack Bristow was getting soft in his old age.  
  
"Or you'll be dealing with me." Now the edge was back in his voice, the snap that made Vaughn's spine jolt to attention. This was the Jack he knew best.  
  
The ceremony wasn't formal, other than the vows, recited with honest sincerity burning in both the groom's and the bride's eyes as they repeated their promises to one another.  
  
The words that caused the deepest stir among all who were watching were Weiss' final pronouncement: "I now pronounce you man and wife. Finally. Now you'd better live happily ever after, I swear..."  
  
Suddenly an eruption of bells pierced the morning air, shattering the silence and resonating with a deep hopeful chime that built and ebbed, a perfect climax to the passionate kiss the happy couple was sharing.  
  
This was life.  
  
This was love.  
  
This was the way it was supposed to be.  
  
Three months later...  
  
The door flew open with a welcoming slam as it hit the wall behind it.  
  
Sydney flew into the apartment, flinging her purse across the room and letting it land in the middle of the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. She was in the bedroom a second later, burrowing under her husband's arm, ignoring her shoes and coat.  
  
"Back so soon?" He muttered, pulling her closer to him and sliding a hand under her coat.  
  
"Yep. I guess you'll have to tell the other girls to leave, huh?"  
  
"They did their business and left. Sorry they didn't stick around to say hi." His voice was light and playful as they exchanged the common banter.  
  
"Hope you tipped them well."  
  
"I did. Gave them some lemonade. Told them to come back any time."  
  
"Maybe I'll make them dinner."  
  
"Maybe. How'd everything go?" She was distracted by his mouth, teasing her collarbone slightly as he kissed her shoulder.  
  
"Hmm?" She asked, trying to ignore him and his wandering hands.  
  
"How did everything go?" He repeated, pausing to look up at her.  
  
"Great. Really."  
  
"I love you." He said it suddenly out of the blue, eyes dark with passion as he looked up at her. In the moment of raw emotion, his accent was drawn out, exotic and fervent as he spoke. "Je t'aime," he repeated again. "Tu as mon couer. Tu est mon ange."  
  
A memory, dragged from the back of her mind, replayed itself in her head. Sydney and Vaughn, agent and handler, boy and girl...working together. And three simple words, "My guardian angel..."  
  
Something had brought them together so long ago... And they had held on until it brought them here, to a place of unending happiness and joy. They loved each other. It was as simple as that.  
  
There was nothing else.  
  
Sydney smiled to herself as Vaughn's lips burned a trail up her neck, and she knew that everything was going to be okay. Her hand instinctively fluttered to her stomach, her other hand tangling in Vaughn's hair as she drew him in for a kiss.  
  
Everyone – all three of them – were going to be okay.  
  
C'est Fin.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"This isn't an end, this is a beginning. Just one in a long chain of beginnings and ends, ends and beginnings, blurring into one another until there is nothing left to determine which is which." 


End file.
